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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479155">Page Six Potter</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusciousmouthboy/pseuds/lusciousmouthboy'>lusciousmouthboy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fanfic Free Fridge [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:34:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>20,028</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29479155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusciousmouthboy/pseuds/lusciousmouthboy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter is famous. In this fic he is good at being famous. But canon Harry Potter hates being famous. I tried to make it work anyway.</p><p>In this unfinished fic, Harry visits Hogwarts and has a spat with Malfoy and his publicist behind a tapestry of Bathsheba taking a bath. He takes a Firecall while doing crunches hanging from his Nimbus 2000. He attends a charity ball thrown by Hermione (obviously) and has a sexy Shakespearean spat with Malfoy on the dance floor. He gets drunk! Too drunk! He is framed for a murder and asks Malfoy to do the timey-wimey thing. (And not nicely!) He drinks firewhiskey with Malfoy on a balcony and cries about agape. Then Hermione solves everyone's problems.</p><p>Please note this fic is unfinished and won't ever be finished.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fanfic Free Fridge [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not a WIP. Very much unedited, very much up for whatever. Take it, leave it.</p><p>This fic was one of the firsts I began in the HP fandom, and drarry specifically. It's got a lot of sentimental value for me. I kept coming back to it over the years but could never get very far because I don't think I knew what I wanted to say with it, and I don't think I knew what I <em>was</em> saying with it. I was just playing! </p><p>I loved writing this: it's confusing and trope-y and honestly kinda cracky!</p><p>Please forgive my poor wizard's Malcolm Tucker, my American-ness, and please enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Great Hall is suddenly bursting with applause.</p><p>Harry shakes to, remembers his cue.</p><p><br/>
He smacks his hands slowly together, half-arsedly feigning enthusiasm, as Minister Perfidy beams and performs a little number of bows and curtseys. The students exchange faces a bit confused, somewhat bemused, but primarily unused. Harry had struggled to keep his own eyes open, if he’s being completely honest. But he’s rarely that, these days.</p><p><br/>
“Thank you, Hogwarts, for your time and your enthusiasm.” Perfidy beams once more. “I’ll be carrying the fond memory of your smiling faces with me blah blah dad joke boring Ministry tripe.”</p><p><br/>
Harry gulps on a laugh. Perfidy, petrified, turns slightly aside towards his PR person, who -- along with much of the Hogwarts staff -- is attempting to cover their chortles with coughs and cups.</p><p><br/>
“But, ah, now,” Perfidy resumes, straightens, and blush rising, “I must leave you in the more than capable hands of your great old Professors, as I’ve unfortunately got to get back to the business of running this darn -- dear country.” He gives one more slightly-composed smile and nods hurriedly from the dias.</p><p><br/>
“Lord, bless us, every one,” McGonagall mutters to herself, and rises to see the Minister and his troupe out. Harry, still sitting to her left, stifles a snort in his sleeve.</p><p><br/>
He peers under the red and gold fabric and watches Perfidy as he’s escorted down the Great Hall by no fewer than six Aurors, three PR reps, an Appearance Specialist and a Handler, one temporarily acquired Headmistress, and one flapping Indian Runner Duck. And no one brings up the duck in public, not after Calgary.</p><p>Harry is supposed to follow now and makes to get up from his seat, just so. His own publicist, he’s certain, is swanning somewhere about the Hall.</p><p><br/>
He stands, scours the scene for her. He watches a group of what looks like Slytherin first-years wave Perfidy off.</p><p><br/>
Amongst the scuttle of hands Harry spots one boldly giving the Minister the finger.</p><p><br/>
He snorts again, harder. And then a familiar hand is pressing, none-too-gently, helping him down the dias after the Minister and his team.</p><p><br/>
“I'm walking, I'm smiling,” Harry grumbles to the now heating hand.</p><p><br/>
Arys clicks and pushes him along until he’s directly behind the team. The Hall rushes by in House colours and sky blues and clouds. The large doors bang close after them.</p><p><br/>
It’s only been a few months since Harry’s last “made an appearance” at the school, and not much has changed. Perhaps his weather and the wardrobe, or the other way around. He can’t quite tell the difference much, any more.</p><p><br/>
If Rita Skeeter had asked little Harry Potter, Champion of Hogwarts, whether or not he imagined he’d be returning to the place at the age of twenty-three, he might have said “sure”.</p><p><br/>
If Rita Skeeter had asked little Harry Potter, Champion of Hogwarts, whether or not he imagined he’d be returning to the place at the age of twenty-three with his very own publicist, his very own stylist, and as the Minister for Magic’s “sporting old friend”, he might have said “bleeding fuck, no”, had he said “bleeding fuck” at such a young age.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>666<br/>
666<br/>
666</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Harry -- being the “sporting old friend” of the Minister’s that he is -- is superbly in “Cupboard” all afternoon. His Hogwarts “bruncheon” still sits comfortably in his stomach, and he may or may not be about to nod off when Perfidy lets drop a clunky fist to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, Malcker, old sport, I think I wrapped up this business of any anti-Ministry tomfoolery at Hogwarts. They loved my speech! Right, Harry? Standing ovation!” Perfidy argued.</p><p> </p><p>Harry sits up ramrod. If that speech was anything close to “loved”, it’d only been because of Perfidy’s terrific fumble. Or the speechwriter’s. Hard to tell in these circumstances. Harry usually can’t be bothered. But now with Malcker --</p><p> </p><p>“Right the Tom-fuck you aren’t, Phoebs! It was a standing excretion, I heard. You dropped a steaming hot turd, Perfidy, and now who's the one responsible for cleaning up after your shite, eh? Who?" Tuckholm Malcker wheels his arms around and around.</p><p> </p><p>“Not again,” someone down the table quietly prays.</p><p> </p><p>“Said your mother, and then your father, and then your Auntie: Shoulda-woulda Condom.” Malcker pans, glaring at Perfidy all the mean while.</p><p> </p><p>Tuckholm Malcker is potentially the worst thing to have infiltrated the Ministry since Lord Worst himself. In the course of a few months, he’s given the Ministry and its employees more grief than that Common Welsh incident two years ago. Someone must have hired him, Harry supposes, but he can’t recall who. Not even Hermione remembers.</p><p><br/>
He suspects it more likely that Malcker simply flushed himself into the Ministry one day, Transfigured the old Spin Wizard (Bertram Yule) into a chair, sat upon him and started yelling and cursing at everyone in -- and out of -- range. Harry’d not long ago coerced Ron into going through the Ministry’s Employee Database to check up Malcker’s family records. Harry had earnestly believed it at least 5% possible that the Malckers had Dementor on someone’s side.</p><p><br/>
As Malcker’s ruddy face rages on, Harry affirms he really is the worst human being he may have ever encountered. Yes, Harry considers, far worse than Snape ever was -- perhaps worse even than Lucius Malfoy and that whole lot of Death Eaters put together. Umbridge though? Maybe a coin-toss on that one. But certainly, undoubtedly, and most-importantly worse than Voldemort, He-Who-We-Primarily-Still-Do-Not-Name.</p><p><br/>
Unfortunately, Malcker’s good at something here, so here he stays; here, barking at the Minister for Magic.</p><p><br/>
A bang returns Harry to the table.</p><p><br/>
Malcker has tossed aside his chair and is now clattering around the room, having Enchanted each and every one of the pointy objects he can Summon to quite literally point at Perfidy’s face.</p><p><br/>
“You’ll Apparate right back to Pigfarts this fucking second. Or, and I’m being fucking nice, here -- “implementing” your rainbow-pissing “constructive criticism”, I am  -- if you prefer staying, I'll arrange it so I’ll have St. Mungo’s cart you off with a head full of Swiss Cheese in the following fucking second following this fucking second. How about it, now, ‘old sport’?”</p><p><br/>
The pointy pens, pencils, et. al., clatter to the table. Perfidy’s eyes are glued to it.</p><p><br/>
“Ah, Phoebs, bloody genius. Let’s ask the table, shall we? Oi, woody, does the wand choose the wizard or is it the wizard chooses the wand HE’S GOING TO SHOVE UP THE OTHER WIZARD’S SHITTER IF THAT’S WHAT FUCKING GETS HIM MOVING OUT OF THE IMMOBILE FUCKING CHAIR. SHALL WE ASK THE CHAIR NOW, COME PHOEBS, LET’S HAVE A GO!” Malcker shouts, chucking his arms about in a bad parody of a Seeker, Harry thinks.</p><p><br/>
“Malcker, enough. Please. I’ll sort it out.” Perfidy flattens his fringe and cajoles his neck to face.</p><p><br/>
He’s plastered on his “Minister for Magic” mask, now, and he brings it around the table; a few seconds for each member of “Cupboard”. Hysteria Greengrass raises an eyebrow.</p><p>Nobody else raises so much as an eyelash.</p><p><br/>
He appeals to Harry, last. His eyes are pleading, and so fucking pathetic. And it’s Hogwarts, and Harry can’t say no. But, he could say no. Or he could say nothing, and resign from “Cupboard” duties altogether. He could even just ask one of Malker’s relatives to give him the big sloppy snog, already.</p><p><br/>
Or, he could just accompany Perfidy and give Arys a thorough jinxing when he next sees her.</p><p><br/>
“This is my life, now, this is my life, now, this is my life, now,” Harry sings to the wall opposite.</p><p><br/>
“Right you are, Chosen One, this is your life now. And I didn't choose you. Bugger him the fuck out,” Malcker commands.</p><p><br/>
He kicks a bin over on his way to the door. He lets it slam, strides back in, kicks the bin again, and then slams the door -- twice, and departs.</p><p><br/>
“AND NO GODDAMN DUCK, DAMMIT!” Malcker barks from the hallway. “Quietus,” he finishes.</p><p><br/>
There’s a thick silence.</p><p><br/>
“I, erm, reckon we’d better go back to Hogwarts, then. Minister?” Harry tries.</p><p><br/>
Phoebus Perfidy wipes his fringe, glances at the up-turned bin, and nods.</p><p><br/>
Harry gets to his sleepy feet.</p><p><br/>
“Right, so, we’ll be back when things are sorted. Anyone else care to join? Right, I figured not. Have a splendid day, all,” he pulls a last face at the remaining and seated.</p><p>Someone in the room grabs 2 security aurors and a PR and then</p><p><br/>
Harry Turns, and gives a bended elbow to the Minister. “As one?”</p><p><br/>
Perfidy grabs hold. They Apparate on the spot.</p><p><br/>
Once they’ve arrived, far, far away, backs to the winged-boar gates and fresh May sun on their faces, Harry asks hopefully, “There isn’t a prophecy in the Hall of Mysteries saying I’m meant to do in Malker, is there?”</p><p><br/>
Perfidy gapes at him.</p><p><br/>
“Just a joke, Minister. Just joking.” Harry informs, rolling his eyes along with the fluffy Spring clouds.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>666</p><p>666</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Professor Sprout fetches Harry and Perfidy at the gates. Perfidy, still recovering from Malcker’s skewering, is gracious and polite but not really answering Sprout’s questioning glares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Hi, Professor, ah, we’re back --” Harry thinks what diplomatic thing Arys would say to take charge in this situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Without the gaggle this time, eh?” She smirks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry tips his head to her at that, and muddles on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yeah, quite. Er, the Minister would like a more, er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>intimate</span>
  </em>
  <span> viewing of the school, if at all possible.” He tosses her his most charming, most Arys smile. “I’m really only here to provide, er, you know -- commentary! And stuff.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Dear boy, commentary, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>stuff?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yup. Right.” Harry’s absolutely aware of how idiotic he sounds, but bumbles on regardless, gesticulating helplessly. “You know. Schoolboy memories. War happenings, and whatnot. From my -- our eyes. As we were there. And whatnot.” Harry scowls, resists shoving his face into his hands for the remainder of the afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Very well.” She looks one-half playful, one half-begrudging, but sends off a Patronus to McGonagall anyway. He hope it presents a more diplomatic case than the one he’d just boffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Oh, right! That reminds me. I’ve got to do the same. Arys -- my publicist -- will literally have my head with marmalade if I don’t -- well, you know. I'll just pop up to the Owlery and, erm, do that," he says, done making a swot of himself for the time being.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>After being accosted by upwards of twenty wandering students, Harry makes it to the tower. He wishes he’d had the foresight to bring the Cloak, or at least the </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Map. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry scrawls a quick note to Arys, notifying her of his whereabouts and changes of plans in the day’s itinerary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Be firm but nice-like, or she’ll hex you into a hand fan,” Harry explains to the borrowed beige tawny owl. “I’m not joking, you. She already has two I’ve seen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>The owl blinks, grave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yeah, now you’re understanding. Be quick about it, though, all right? She hates not knowing.” He and the owl exchange exasperated stares. “Right, well, don’t fuck up!” he calls as the owl takes off into the blue midday sky. Harry just wishes he could fly off with it. </span>
  <span><br/>
<br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Hell, he wishes he could spend the rest of the day in the Owlery, just chatting with the birds. But he is Harry Potter: Celebrity, now, and celebrity duties don’t often cater to such wishes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>666</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He knows Perfidy and Sprout are up in the Headmistress’ Office, but he momentarily forgets he doesn’t know any passwords anymore. He’d tried convincing the grouchy gargoyle </span>
  <span>repaired from in the war </span>
  <span>to let him up, he was there with the Minister on important Ministry business. He even used “the public Potter clout”, as Arys dubbed it: “But I’m Harry Potter, what do you think I’m going to do, slip her one too many sugars?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He was rebuffed with some harsh “Sonny-jims” and cuss words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Shoving some copy of Witch Weekly with his mug on the cover he ended up with, Harry knocks on the door to the Staff Lounge. Despite taking precautions, Harry had to stop and sign seventeen textbooks on his way from the Owlery to the Office to the Lounge, but no helpful Professor in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Neville opens the door, a bit startled. “Harry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Hey, Nev. Listen, I’m supposed to be here with the Minister on some business stuff-- but wait, what are you doing here?” Harry asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“You probably didn’t hear, it hasn’t been officially announced yet but I’m taking over for Professor Sprout as Herbology Head!” Neville grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Awesome, mate! That’s really good! Really good, really good.” Harry pauses, “She’s well and all, though?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yeah, of course she is. You know her. Just time for ‘the extended holiday’. That’s what she calls it at least. So I’m here now, doing a bit of apprentice, shadowing work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Congratulations, really. That’s really, really cool, mate!” Harry goes to offer his hand but Neville grabs him into an awkward side-hug and they both blush a bit and smile at each other. Harry gives Neville a friendly back-slap to make up for the awkwardness, for the months of no contact, for accidentally mucking up his relationship with Ginny some years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Nobody mentions that though, thankfully, and after Harry explains his situation, Neville escorts him to McGonagall’s and shoos away a couple of pestering Gryffindors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I don’t really have to ask what you’ve been up to, do I?” Neville remarks amiably along the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I guess not.” Harry says. “I mean, I do more than the papers say I’m sure. Really  busy, so that’s why I haven’t been able to... erm. My publicist, Arys, she runs a super tight schedule most days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Neville chuckles. “You haven’t the faintest how funny it is to hear you say the words “my” and “publicist” in a sequence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Oh, Nev, but I do.” Harry says darkly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>They’re approaching the gargoyle now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He refuses to acknowledge Harry and instead addresses Neville as if he were the most polite gargoyle in the country.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“What is it?” the gargoyle asks neutral. Kindly, Harry thinks, and his mouth sours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Erm,” Neville looks at Harry, floundering. “It is...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“You don’t know the password?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the password. There is no password.” Harry scrunches a brow. “It’s a riddle. Like the Ravenclaw dorms? Increased security, that tosh. Merlin, I wish she’d just have kept it a bloody password. This is going to be hell next term.” Neville groans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry laughs, polite but impatiently. Unable to sympathise with the hoi, Arys would say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>He legs into a duelling stance and gives it a go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Er, fuck, it is, I don’t know, it’s a thingy-jib, it’s...” he squeezes his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know! Bloody Christ on a crucifix.” Harry swears, “Is it him? No, it’s what? It’s just it?! It’s fucking it! This is fucking it,” and begins pacing in circles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Close enough, Mr Potter.” </span>
  <span>and “Naughty, Potter!” both come from behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Perfidy and Sprout are there, beside them a tall blonde man in cutting black dress robes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Jesus fuck Malfoy!</span>
  <span>” Harry is </span>
  <em>
    <span>preparing</span>
  </em>
  <span> to exclaim, when a prim grey-haired head bobbles into focus behind Draco Malfoy. She glares. Harry closes his eyes and inhales for a beat -- this is his life, now, and then clears his throat obnoxiously. Just the way Arys hates it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Malfoy. What a pleasant surprise.” He grits out instead. He smiles, constipated, and Malfoy smirks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I assure you, the surprise’s entirely mine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mister</span>
  </em>
  <span> Potter.” And Malfoy bows, he fucking bows just like his slimy fucking Father Lucius Bleeding --</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy wasn’t his Father, though, and Harry knew it now. He’d testified at his trials, heard all about Malfoy’s mental breakdown and subsequent time spent in Ghandasphur. He saw him at various Ministry or other functions, he promoted Death Eater rehabilitation and posed with Malfoy for a number of sickening press opportunists. Harry  has his chagrin, Malfoy has his barbs, and they are the picture of perfectly polite to one another. Unless one, or either, or both of them has had too much to drink. It’s all very politik, Harry supposes. Ron has a harder time of it. Hermione’s had an easier time of it. Harry is, as always, somewhere lapping water in the middle. Arys drags him to the surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>And then bells are clanging in Harry’s head, again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Arys. You got here fast. Colour me shocked!” Harry mock-cries. “And Phoeb- Minister,” he corrects, “I thought you were in the Headmistress’? And Professor Sprout, Neville was just filling me in on your plans for the coming months. Congratulations.” Harry smiles, a bit more genuine this time, but he’s still got bells clanging in his skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yes, finally time to toss in the old hat, so to speak. Nice one with that riddle, by the way. To date, that’s probably the most obnoxious one the precious little wretch’s come up with.” Sprout smiles mischieviously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Lovely.” Harry says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Right, well this being the second time that Minister Perfidy’s returned to the castle since the Restoration, the Headmistress suggested we take a full tour. I’ll be guiding you, though I doubt you’ll need any of me at all, Mr. Potter. You might even have a better go at it yourself.” Sprout says, sparkling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I think we’ll follow your lead, today. Professor.” Harry winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Mr. Malfoy will be accompanying us,” Sprout adds, still sparkling. “Shall we?” She begins walking at a brisk pace aside Perfidy, who begins abashed asking questions and babbling on, as he does; and Harry and Neville follow in before Arys and Malfoy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Might as well join you. Can’t hurt, right?” Neville looks over at Harry hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry gives a perfunctory nod -- he’s too busy listening to Arys and Malfoy behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I’ve just come from the Board,” Malfoy preens to Arys who will listen, “and was to meet with the Headmistress to discuss some ‘concerns’. Unfortunately, she’s at the moment preoccupied. I heard the Minister and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mister</span>
  </em>
  <span> Potter were here on a rare, and couldn’t resist joining in.” Harry can hear the smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“That’s sweet of you. Isn’t it, Harry, fawn?” Arys calls, as they head up a staircase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“As a Cockroach Cluster! I’m so </span>
  <em>
    <span>tickled </span>
  </em>
  <span>we’re all here together. How jolly.” He mutters. Neville laughs beside him, and Harry is content.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“A small Hogwarts reunion of sorts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>a PR or someone for perfidy arrives and they’re occupied with that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy uses the commotion, strides over to Harry. “Potter,” he whispers. “A word? if you please?” He gestures with his eyes and brows to a secret passageway behind a tapestry of a bathing Bathsheba to their left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Just one? And usually you’re so verbose,” Harry says catty, and pulls faces behind Malfoy’s back as he sweeps aside the tapestry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy’s light eyes glint in the dark crevice. “Now is not the time, Potter. I’ve just come from an emergency meeting with the Board of Governors. Confidential, at the moment, but you know how these things go. There’s been some --”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy stutters on his "s”, startled</span>
  <span>. Someone is standing behind Harry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“What, Arys?” Harry turns around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>She mock-pouts (that’s where I’ve picked it up? Harry shudders). “Harold, you disappeared. Pardon me for caring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I -- you weren't even,” and he bites down. “The Poker! Oh,” Harry laughs, self-satisfied, “you poor button. That’s how you knew to get here so fast! Ha! Caught again!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Arys clicks and makes a great fuss of the ceiling. Harry can see her silver-grey curls twitching, lightly, in the gloom. He unsheathes his wand and taps the spot on his back, where he can now sense the foreign magic. It dissipates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“You almost had me this time. But almost is sort-of actually not at all. And you know what that means.” Harry waggles his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of Malfoy’s glinting eyebrows is puzzled and somehow the other rests at irritated. He keeps blowing his fringe from his forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Oh, and they’ll need it tonight," Harry says, "After the day they’ve had." </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Harold, you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> pay professionals to do this for you.” Arys curls her lips, disgraceful in defeat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“You say that each time, but, no one really </span>
  <em>
    <span>loathes </span>
  </em>
  <span>my extremeties the way you do.” He pats her wrist, sighs blissfully, anticipating clawing, angry, hand and feet massages from her later tonight. Malfoy blows his fringe from his forehead again and wears a pained face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Oh, fawn, it isn’t only your extremeties I loathe.” Arys smiles, shark-like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry straightens Arys’ collar and wedges her from the crevice. “Right. You love me, and because of, should just stop bugging me.” He chides as he tries to close the tapestry on her. "I’ll tell you everything later. Girl’s night!” He calls through the tapestry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a scuffle, Malfoy looks supremely unimpressed about the whole thing, and Harry feels a bit bad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins to apologize when Arys casts glissindo and harry slips into malfoy and Malfoys just like holding him like a hot potato.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “your publicist actively tries to harm you in public?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “she’s a slytherin, easily riled.” and malfoy says “right of course that makes sense.” because it doesnt and he's been holding Harry for too long and Harry realises this and steps back into the tapestry, bumping into a body outside.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m not moving," Arys says, pushing aside the tapestry and slipping behind Harry. "This does sound important. Please, Mr Malfoy, by all means. Ignore any sounds from that one and kindly continue.” Arys insists, silencios Harry, and leans her crisp green suit against the dirty wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Thank you.” Malfoy nods, hesitant now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry rolls his eyes, and flicks away the silencing spell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Another hand comes around the tapestry, and the three jump. (Well, Harry “whas” loudly and doffs Arys’ ear with his fist, Arys hisses, and Malfoy steps back into the wall. his shoes clang and it reverberates)</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I, er, heard funny noises. Everything alright in here?” Neville Longbottom says, regretting it hastily as he becomes the very short bottom of three disgruntled glares from three temperamental wizards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Right. I’ll just,” he gestures behind him, lets the tapestry fall back into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Arys spares a glance for Harry, a biting, “When I!,” and exits. Merlin knows what Neville's thinking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Harry never does seem to find out exactly what she’ll when.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy heaves a long-suffering sigh, and pushes back his fringe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“What is it you want, Malfoy? Speak now, or forever be interrupted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Harry Potter, one would almost accuse you of enjoying our little asides.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Ha! Right, I enjoy them like a</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>a moldy cake I don’t enjoy. Or Gillyweed. Like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Right.” A corner of Malfoy’s mouth turns up. “As you like it.” He says. “Anyway, the matter at hand is quite alarming. Two days ago a number of students -- we don’t know how many, whom or what years -- vandalised the entire third floor corridor and classroom walls in bloody red and raw gold lightning bolts. The symbol and colours of your... cult.” Malfoy distastes the word. “Before you become rabid,” Malfoy pacifies, “I’m perfectly positive you’re uninvolved. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> -- you’ve renounced them, left and right, in the papers and </span>
  <em>
    <span>so on</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but truly, you have no idea of their agenda? If they have one?” He looks very serious. Very off on Malfoy. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>"They call themselves the Potheads, Malfoy. Seriously."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, fuck, no."</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“They’ve never reached out to you? They’ve never directly initiated contact with you?” Malfoy says, carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“No.” Harry says. “Never directly. My house is quite heavily warded, and any post goes through Arys first. So many nutters, so little time?” Harry tries. “Yeah, you’d have to ask her. Guess we shouldn’t have sent her away.” Harry pauses -- Malfoy looks offended at his use of ‘we’ -- “She only relays the important information. The stuff </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>need to know, really. We -- </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>-- don’t like to discuss the cu-- the “Potheads”. If we can help it. It’s too --” Harry grits his teeth, </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Familiar.” Malfoy says.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pathetic." Harry finishes.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span>they share a weird sympathetic stare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Yup.” Harry summarises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“She hasn’t spoken to you of them writing in the past weeks? Nothing at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I’m sure she would if they had. Sorry. You know I’d help if I could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Right. Well, The BoG’s appointed me in charge of this lovely debacle. Because of our ‘aquaintance’." Malfoy huffs "so if either she or you do hear anything, I’d like to be informed. If not first perhaps fifth, or even ninth, if you can manage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Alright Malfoy. Maybe before Pepper -- if you’re lucky. I’ll let you know. What are you going to do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“No idea," he pokes at his sleeves again. Harry doesn't believe him, of course. It's Malfoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up, "Duty calls."</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ah, right. And you can't speak of it," Harry winks exaggerated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malfoy nods tetchily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, makes sense. Wonderful. Wonderwall. Is that all? I’m probably,” harry mutters off as he opens the tapestry to leave before anything worse happens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“As enchanting as always, Page Six.” Malfoy says quietly. Almost fondly.<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>they meet back up with group and Arys.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Harry grabs Arys’ itchy arm, “Arys, you donkey, we’ve got a lot to discuss over my foot massage tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Bloody basilisks eat me.” she mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“I could probably arrange it.” Harry snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“You probably could.” Arys allows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>hex each other wands behind their backs as they walk down the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>Malfoy watching from behind, down the hall, in bafflement: I don’t understand i will never understand wwhy why why why is this person why?</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Harry continues on the “GUIDED TOUR” OF HOGWARTS W THE MINISTER and troupe </span>
  <span>but Malfoy has left but the sport in Harry has not!</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You never did finagle your way into the Hufflepuff dormitory, did you now, Potter?” prods Professor (“Pomona now, you dear old man.”) Sprout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Never got the opportunity, as it was.” Harry coughs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“All right, fawn?” Arys not so gently pats Harry’s middle-back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  
  <span>“Just dandy, Arys.” He wolfishly smiles back at her, the unspoken promise of revenge going perfectly noticed between them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The cult they don't speak of going perfectly unnoticed a floor away.</span>
</p><p><span></span><br/>
 <span></span><br/>
</p><p>
  <span>666</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oh my God, I can't believe I wrote HOUSE-ELVES who were not in REVOLT like Jesus FUCK MAN! Oh, the shame.</p><p>PS. I'm pretty certain <em>I</em> was drunk when I wrote drunk Ron and Harry. Oh, the places you'll go.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry’s in his bedroom in a very compromising position.</p><p>    “It’s just Hermione’s, Arys. I don’t need Memene to come up for Hermione's.” </p><p>    He hangs from a battered Nimbus 2000 by his knees. His face, or Arys’ in the flames, is most certainly upside down.</p><p>    “Harry, this’ll be a huge event. Everyone from Perfidy to yes, your friends, will be in attendance,” Arys insists. He curls up his stomach to touch the broom, then curls back down to touch the floor. Trying to listen. “I’ve got it from Zuri in Foreign Relations that dignitaries from various countries’ Magical Creatures branches will be present. It’s an international interest, fawn, you’ve got to look your best. Jared has it at least half the Prophet staff will be there!”</p><p>    Harry dangles.</p><p>    “Jared wants you for your wand. And even if all these people are there, they don't care what cut or colour my robes are. Besides, you told me once all I needed to have was you on my arm," he says.</p><p>    “Harold,” She mock-simpers.</p><p>"I'm there for the narwhals. They don't care how I look."</p><p>    Harry swings like a pendulum.</p><p>    “Fine. As you will," Arys says. "And you’d better learn the proper name of Ms. Granger’s Foundation before tomorrow evening. I’m not helping you, don’t give me that face.” Arys rolls some of her silver hair into a curler. “I’ll make arrangements with Memene now. Tomorrow, 1400. See you then, you sodding brat.” </p><p>    Harry drops from the broom.</p><p>    “I’m so fond of you as well! So much love!” He yells from the floor to Arys’ retreating curls.</p><p>    “Brat,” Harry mutters to himself as he lifts his head from the carpet. “You can’t be a brat at twenty-three,” he tells the still-hanging Nimbus 2000. </p><p>    He yanks it from the smoky parlour air and smashes his forearm on the eave. </p><p>    “Fuck."</p><p>Harry crumples to the floor in defeat.</p><p>    “You know, I daresay that with an exceptionally arrested psyche, one -- meaning you, of course -- can indeed be labeled ‘a brat’ at the more mature age of twenty-three.”</p><p>    “Oh, stuff it, Phineas.” Harry chucks the Nimbus 2000 to a corner, and rubs his forearm.</p><p>    “As previously stated, the very word exemplified before me.” The raven-haired man in the portrait waves his wrists illustriously, serene, and strides out of the frame.</p><p>    “I didn’t say leave!” Harry calls. “It’s Friday! I’m all alone. I’m so lonely!” He play-whinges. really whinges.</p><p>    He sits, forearm forgotten. Waiting for Phineas’ response. </p><p>    “The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. I think you'll find Grandmother Irma's copy most lively.” </p><p>    “Don’t they all die at the end?” Harry asks.</p><p>    “While it is not his most original, well-crafted, lyrical, or even interesting piece, it is William Shakespeare populaíre. You ought to enjoy it.” Phineas says.</p><p>    “Great, thanks, mate.” Harry rolls his eyes and rolls over to the bookshelf. </p><p>    “Again, Mr. Potter, I am not your ‘mate’,” he bites.</p><p>    “‘Night Great-great-great-grandfather.” Harry opens the book and hears the portrait sputter before rushing away.</p><p> </p><p>A figure springs from the book, made of wax and string and cardstock.</p><p> </p><p>    “Two households, both alike in dignity,<br/>
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,<br/>
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,”...</p><p> </p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>    Harry awoke some time in the late morning. He’d gotten to the part after Romeo and Juliet meet and the party ends before Apparating himself upstairs. He didn’t fall asleep on couches anymore; Harry Potter was not the kind of person who fell asleep on couches or loveseats anymore. It was most likely something Arys had knackered into him, either that or, it was the result of having endured too many nights with Phineas waking him up, repeatedly, and in various loud and annoying ways. (One time, he somehow managed to get all of the dead Headmasters and Headmistresses to join him in a terribly pitchy rendition of some Muggle song called “Back in Black”, (which then led Harry to seriously question what exactly McGonagall got up to in that office).</p><p> </p><p>    “Good morning, Harry Potter,” Kreacher croaked, and Harry poured his coffee from the French-press into a mug. </p><p>    Harry grunted, “Morning.”</p><p>    “She is here, so Kreacher will be departing now."</p><p>    “Thank you!” Harry called off, as Kreacher popped into the nothingness.</p><p>    An owl was perched on the table, pecking at a plate of uncooked bacon.</p><p>    “Lucifer,” Harry greeted. </p><p>    Lucy continued devouring the rinds, ignoring Harry entirely.</p><p>    This was a morning routine. Kreacher would let in the owl he was so terrified of, prepare her a mess of cold pork fat, and then pop off to the Hogwarts kitchens for the majority of the day. The elf spent most of his time between places. Harry suspected he was afraid of Lucy, and strongly disliked her. He wondered if Kreacher would ever try to poison the bird.</p><p>Harry wondered if he should suggest it.</p><p>    The owl was an owl in species only: every other single characteristic she possessed was more vulture, to Harry. She was black with gigantic, swooping wings, -- hovering the way Snape’s black cloaks used to -- coral talons and cherry red eyes. Harry swore Arys’ had Charmed them that way, but he couldn’t prove it and she’d never admit to it. And then, she went and named the thing, “Lucy”. </p><p>    Lucy, having finished, swept up to perch on one of the high lights.</p><p>    Harry drank his coffee standing, forked in a tumble of scrambled eggs, and the owl flapped its wings.</p><p>    He pulled the parchment on the table closer.</p><p>    “Harry,</p><p>    Saturday<br/>
14 April, 2002</p><p>    1400     Grimmauld Place, London<br/>
Meeting<br/>
Arys Wronsky<br/>
YOUR PUBLICIST YOU SOD<br/>
TOPIC: IMPORTANT MATTERS RE TONIGHT’S GALA<br/>
DO NOT BE LATE<br/>
1800      Heidel House, Brighton<br/>
Gala<br/>
Fundraiser<br/>
Magical Creatures and Beings’ Rights Foundation<br/>
Hermione Granger</p><p>    A E W</p><p>    PS. 1400 A”</p><p>    Arys, in her writing, was all at once formal and organised, colloquial and shouting, and her postscripts were a cryptic system all of their own. They’d taken Harry nearly a month to decipher. He still didn’t even know what the “E” in her name stood for.</p><p>    Satisfied that Harry had read the itinerary fully, Lucy circled the ceiling once and Harry undid the latch on the window to let her out.</p><p>    “Vulture, fucking vulture.” Harry muttered as he traipsed up the stairs.</p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>    Showered and having acted aloud the first act of Romeo and Juliet, much to Phineas’ displeasure, Harry was now running up and down the kitchen steps, waiting for Arys to arrive.</p><p>    Just on time (five minutes past two), Harry heard a cacaphony of sounds coming from his wards: Mrs. Black’s wail (Her portrait had come in handy after all), Veela screeching (Arys’ own personal alert), and crows crowing. He felt the wards being poked at, as if someone was poking their wand into his bellybutton. He wiped the sensation off, as he jogged to the door. It became One-Way Transparent when anyone was within the wards’ range -- a woman stood with her back to the door on the top step of Grimmauld’s stoop.</p><p>    “Hark, who goes there?”, shouted Harry.</p><p>    “Tis I, the Frenchiest fry,” Arys turned around, her arms crossed against her chest.</p><p>    Harry opened the door and smiled cheerily.</p><p>    “Come in, wee tater.”</p><p>    Arys, dressed impeccably in a crisp charcoal suit, eyed him critically and entered.</p><p>    “You could’ve just Flooed, you know.”</p><p>    “Not with these.” She held up two black zipped bags, as long as her body was tall. </p><p>    “From Memene?”</p><p>    “Yours and mine.”</p><p>    “Eurgh. Please say they aren’t matching like that one supper, where was it? Oh, no, it was the Mermish Conference thing. They’re not matching, are they?” Harry prayed.</p><p>    “They aren’t matching, fawn. Not after that Prophet page 6."</p><p>"'Potter's puppet pals'" -- they love alliteration over there," Harry remembered.</p><p>    “Am I to stuff these in your cupboards?” Arys said.</p><p>    “Oh, right, sorry, you can take them up. Obviously. Don’t you usually just ‘round about the place like it’s yours?” </p><p>    Arys glared, fished in her bag before going up, slapped a piece of parchment onto the table, and said, “Begin,” and left.</p><p>    It was an official list of all the expected guests at Hermione’s tonight. Harry groaned. In Hermione’s own handwriting, too. Arys must have Lucifered her this morning. Poor Hermione.</p><p>    Harry wasn’t looking forward to Gala guest-guessing, or Gala etiquette-reminding, but he knew right now, Hermione’d be pulling out her hair, Ron’s hair, and probably the hair of most of her colleagues. </p><p>    Arys re-entered the kitchen and sat down at the table. </p><p>    “Go.” She commanded.</p><p> </p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>    Two hours later and Harry was brewing a fourth cup of tea for each of them. </p><p>    “MCBRF: Hermione Granger, Hannah Abbott, Peony Brown, Lavander Brown, Blanche Finney, Thurston Ips, Gregory Goyle.” Harry mussed his hair.</p><p>    “I can’t get over Goyle, I can’t, I really can’t, Arys. I just, what is Hermione thinking? I know, she’s being Hermione about it, and yes, Arys,” Harry interjected when he noticed the incredible look on her face, “I have asked her about it, believe me. Dozens of suppers. She just says he’s quiet and good at his job. I don’t get it.”</p><p>    “Are you not perfectly civil with your once foes? If you can do it, I’m positively sure she can. Anyway, you’ll get to witness it tonight. Or not. I’ll keep him away if you need. Now, on,” Arys said.</p><p>    And the afternoon passed in a similar fashion.\</p><p> </p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>    Harry and Arys dressed for Hermione’s Gala in the official “modé room”. </p><p>    The room was once a drawing room, or some room, but once Harry had hired Arys (or however exactly that had worked), and Memene they had it converted into his dressing room. As a sort-of present and apology to Memene over an outfit arguement, Harry had even given the room a plaque. It was essentially a giant closet. If Walburga could see her old house now. Fuck, if Sirius could see his old house now.</p><p>    Mémene had outdone herself, sending the newest and bluest of formal robes. Robin’s-Egg blue, with the tiniest beige speckles, just like the bloody eggs. They weren’t unattractive, per se, but they certainly weren’t anything Harry would ever choose for himself voluntarily. </p><p>    He shoveled himself into them as quickly as he could. He went to the mirror. The speckles swirled about in the fabric. They weren’t the worst, he thought. </p><p>    No, he felt like Gilderoy Lockhart. Again. </p><p>    “Hello, I’m Gilderoy Cockhart.” He informed the mirror. He gave a big false Gilderoy smile. It didn’t sparkle. </p><p>    His publicist sent a hundred dis-armed fists to rap on the door.</p><p>    “Coming!” He shouted.</p><p>    “We’ll be late!” She shouted back.</p><p>    He opened the door and pranced about the floor, pretending he was Romeo at the costume party. He went to play duel Arys on the stairs.</p><p>    “What, why do you get to wear a suit?” She was in a grand, fitted cloud-coloured number. </p><p>    “Ask Memene. You’re dashing.” Arys grinned.</p><p>    “Yeah, ask Memene.”</p><p>    “You love her.”</p><p>    “Yes. Very.” Harry sighed and pouted. Their little routine. </p><p>     Next she would try to manouver his fringe into a side-part. “Can’t you just,” and give up after a three minutes. “Nevermind. Late!”</p><p>    “Flying, Flooing, or Apparating?” Harry asked.</p><p>    “Late!” She hooked their arms. “With me.” And tugged him to their destination, hoping they wouldn’t be late.</p><p>    But somehow they invariably, always, were.</p><p> </p><p>666<br/>
666</p><p> </p><p>The Heidel House was grand and high-ceilinged. That was about all Harry could see of it from behind Arys’ taller frame. It was also packed full of people in the foyer.</p><p>    Harry greeted and shook hands with a few people.</p><p>    “Arys, I’m going to be smothered to death by cravats.” He whined. A floating tray of wine, grapes, and chees es passed by. “Oh, snacks!”</p><p>    “Give.”</p><p>    Harry grabbed two glasses, passed one to Arys, and then a handful of cheese and one grape. For posterity. </p><p>    Arys Ding-Dong hexed him, so he grabbed three more. </p><p>    He spotted Hannah Abbott in the right corner of the crowd, and tried to make his way there. </p><p>    “Harry!” Hermione called from somewhere behind him.</p><p>    Harry spun and grinned. Not at all Gilderoy-like.</p><p>    “Harry.” She amended, softer, as she caught a camera flash nearby. “So nice of you to attend.” She kissed his cheek and lit his face with her smile.</p><p>    “This is amazing, Hermione, congratulations.” He whispered into her hair.     </p><p>    “Thank you. I haven’t even made it into the ballroom, yet.” </p><p>‘Bug’, she mouthed. </p><p>‘SO MANY PEOPLE.’ He replied.</p><p> She laughed and dragged Harry to the far side where he had spotted Hannah. </p><p>    He exchanged greetings with the group there, (Hannah Abbott, Peony Brown, Lavander Brown, Blanche Finney, Thurston Ips, where was Gregory Goyle?) and he and Hermione sunk down into an alcove hiding a table of crackers. </p><p>    “Where’s Goyle?” Harry crunched through his cracker.</p><p>    “The ballroom, and the blue is fetching,” she whispered maliciously.</p><p>    “Arse.”</p><p>    “Berk! He’s kind, now! Well, kinder. He likes to watch birds. Ask him about that monstrosity your publicist stuck upon me this morning.” Hermione said. Speaking of monstrosities, Harry looked over her head and saw Arys flirting with someone or other in the crowd a ways away. </p><p>    “Yeah, sorry about that. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have allowed it. The thing is a vulture, I swear.”</p><p>    “The owl, or Arys?” Hermione retorted.</p><p>    “Ha, ha,” Harry said around another cracker and cheese. “Either, I suppose,” he admitted.</p><p>    “Yes, well, it wasn’t a problem. Just, do you mind if I un-spell one of her braids later on?”</p><p>    “Not a mite.” </p><p>    “Perfect. Speaking of which, Ronald’s in the ballroom with Goyle. He was chatting up Perfidy’s wife the last I saw -- Ronald, of course, not Goyle.” She assured as Harry snorted.  “Ginny’s here already, she brought Captain Crunch.” Harry choked on a cracker.</p><p>    “Is that what we’re calling him now?” </p><p>    “Remind me to tell you next week. No time, now. Oh, and don’t ask him about his broom!” Hermione warned. </p><p>    “Is that innuendo?” Harry rasped incredulously and full of crackers.</p><p>    “Oh, no Harry. One would wish it were. I’ve got to be off. Eleanora’s just arrived. I’ll see you soon! Tell you everything next week! Have the vulture--!” She gestured with her hands and turned, finding some important Ministry official. No, not some, Eleanora Bancroft, Goblin Liason Head.<br/>
Harry knew their names.</p><p>    He stuffed another cracker and cheese into his mouth, chasing it down with the rest of his white wine.</p><p>    “Harold. Close your mouth when you chew.” Arys said and poked his ribcage with her wand.</p><p>    “Fuck, Arys, where did you come from? I really should be used to this by now. How am I not used to this by now?” He shook his head and she handed him a napkin and he dabbed at his lips. </p><p>    “Better. Stop messing your hair. Now go say hi.” Arys pointed, “There, Gringotts Board Member Albert Tepougé and his partner, Cary Renninger. No, left. Yes. Squeeze them, please them.” </p><p>    Harry made a raspberry. </p><p>    “In the name of tiny golden unicorns!” She placed her hand to her forehead in mock-horror.</p><p>    “All right, all right, I’m going.” He stuffed the grapes in his mouth, and smiled around them. Arys raised her chin, pursed her lips and gave him the thumbs up. then shuffled him off into the fray. </p><p>    He kept that silly image in his head when he almost tripped over Peony Brown.</p><p>    He used to trip unfailingly. He only trips about half the time now.</p><p>    “Bonjour, Msr Tepouge, and Mr Renninger.” </p><p>    “Harry Potter! It is a true pleasure.” Msr Tepouge disregarded his proffered hand and kissed his cheeks, one, and the other. Mr Renninger laughed at Harry’s mild expression and clasped his limp hands jovially. </p><p>    He mucked about with all of the guests in the foyer, introducing himself and going through the “Close Friend’s Charity Gala pleasantries” -- Arys had a list of ‘pleasantries’ for every type of event they encountered -- until finally an hour later he was able to escape his “Harry Potter: Celebrity” duties and find Ron in the ballroom. </p><p>    Arys would be off upchatting him to some dignitary or flirting, or fuck knows.</p><p>    “Ron, there you are! Christ, it’s --” Harry stopped himself when Ron and his companion turned. Reliable as ever, Ron was doing some upchatting of his own, and to the Minister no less.</p><p>    “Harry, old sport! I was wondering when you’d turn up! How do you?” Minister Phoebus Perfidy doffed his shoulder.</p><p>    “Oh, well, you know. Busy doing the pleasantries. Hermione’s gotten a lot of people to come. Even yourself. That’s always good for the cause.” Harry chewed on his smile. He grabbed a wine glass off of a passing tray.</p><p>    “Fashionably late, egg?” Ron quipped, and laughed at both Harry’s formals and his own ridiculous joke. Harry snorted with him.</p><p>    “Wanker. I’ve been here. I’ve only just made it here, that’s all.” He aimed a cute little Quack-Attack at Ron, for good measure and fun and all that.</p><p>    Ron opened his mouth to say something, but he quacked.<br/>
Perfidy was oblivious. </p><p>Ron’s ears pinked and Harry asked, “Which came first, Minister? The duck or the egg?”</p><p>    Ron blew his mouth into a big bubble and made a number of grotesque and threatening faces towards Harry.</p><p>    “Sorry, what, old sport?” Perfidy bent down a notch. </p><p>    “Ron has something he'd like to say to you!” He said and grinned devilishly at Ron, who was now breathing heavily through his nose.</p><p>Perfidy glanced at Ron.</p><p>    “I see, I see. Er, quite the party, eh, Weasley?” The Minister said, a bit taken aback, while Ron twisted his face into a pucker and nodded. “I’m sure you two’ll want to be catching up now. I’ll make my leave.” Perfidy leaned in. “Must locate the wife anyway.” He winked awkwardly and bounced off into the throngs.</p><p>    They were left alone by a window almost the size of the wall.</p><p>    Harry cracked up. Ron spat out his wine and started quacking. Harry shoved his hand over -- and partly into -- Ron’s mouth and removed the jinx.</p><p>    “Shut up, it’s gone!” He giggled, breathless. Here he was giggling, his hands all over Ron’s mouth, and the Prophet were probably going mad. </p><p>    “The fuck was that for, arsehole?” Ron yelled over the orchestra. "You made me look a tit! That was the bloody Minister!"</p><p>"Perfidy?"</p><p>"Yes! I'm not his Chessboard, am I?" </p><p>    “Believe me, mate, the better you are for it!” Harry yelled back.</p><p>    “You look like Gilderoy Lockhart!”</p><p>    “I thought that, too!” Harry was growing steadily drunk. Happily drunk. “It’s okay that we poke fun at him, isn’t it? Is my hair blonde?!”</p><p>    “No, you shite-haired prat! But on the subject of blonde-headed prats, and brown-headed prats, and prats: Wood’s here up with Anthony Goldstein. Erm, to let you know. Like, so, before you find them in a dimly lit hall.”</p><p>    “Goldstein? You're fucking with me!? What’s he off on?”</p><p>    “Likely you, mate.</p><p>    Harry guffawed.</p><p>    “Well, you ditched him!”</p><p>    Harry shook his head.</p><p>    “It wasn't even like that!"</p><p>"I can't believe you shagged Gyrffindor's most famous Quidditch captain."</p><p>"It was one shag! I thought we’d cleared everything up. Is he Gryffindor's most famous Quidditch captain?"</p><p>Ron opened his mouth in realisation. "Harry! You've shagged all of Gryffindor's famous Quidditch captains!"</p><p>Harry looked aghast. "Oh, mate, no. I was so happy! Stop!" Harry shouted at Ron as the orchestra grew louder. </p><p>Ron pointed from Harry's hand and made a dirty gesture. </p><p>"ALL of Gryffindor's famous Quidditch captains," he said. </p><p>"Your mum!"</p><p>"Too far!"</p><p>they chugged more champagne from the next tray that passed.</p><p>"Hermione’s going be having fuzzy Kneazles! SO MANY PEOPLE!” Harry mouthed.</p><p>    “Honestly, mate,” Ron leaned in, breath smelling like fizzy alcohol, “I suspect,” he paused for dramatics, “she bribed some of them. With BLACKMAIL!” He said proudly.<br/>
“My Hermione. I’ve got a black mailing woman, black mailing woman.” </p><p>Ron leaned back and snatched two wine glasses off of a floating canape. And started singing.</p><p>    “Ron. Ron. Oi, Ron, shut up.” Harry took his glass from Ron and cast another wandless Quack-Attack. “Ronald!” </p><p>    “Quack, QUACK!” He waved his hands. Harry lifted it and sloshed a bit of wine while doing so. “All right, all right.” His red ears and off-balanced grin made Harry wonder who was the more drunk in this conversation.</p><p>    “Oi! What about Goyle! Where’she!?” Harry asked.</p><p>    “He’s a chap, he’s a chap, Harry!” Ron insisted, waving his glass about. “He’s a fucking chap! ‘S told-rable.” He admits, whispering very loudly.</p><p>    “Well, you told-rabled me so! To you, the smartest wizard of our age!"<br/>
"To me!" Ron held up his drink, some of it sloshing.<br/>
"And the smartest witch of our age!” Ron proclaimed, and they cheersed and spilled some more on Harry. Ron leaned in laughing to mop it up.</p><p>    “Is this finally happening, then?” A voice behind Harry prompted. He spun around and so did the room. He slapped a hand upon the window to right himself.</p><p>    “Malfoy. What’s this finally happening? You an'...” Harry struggled to find the insult. He blinked and chewed his frown. </p><p>    “Your mum.” Ron said, and they both fell over laughing again.</p><p>    “I doubt it, Weasley.” Malfoy said. He cleared his throat, obnoxiously. “You and Potter, of course.” </p><p>Harry stopped laughing and just glared. </p><p>“We all had bets running during school. Does Granger know? No, it can’t be. Is it the three of you? Blaise did nurse his suspicions, but I never!” Malfoy said.</p><p>    “Oi, ferret-face! Don’talk ‘bout my WIFE LIKE that at her GALA YOU dirty cunny!"</p><p>    Harry and Malfoy both drew their wands simultaneously, eyeing each other up. They stepped in closer to one another, circling, vultures.</p><p>Their hair is almost touching. Light and dark.</p><p>    “We're cordial one week, Malfoy?” Harry says, while raking curses through his sloppy head. </p><p>    Malfoy leans in closer to Harry and lowers his voice, “I’m jealous. I’m hurt. I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” </p><p>    “Oh, trespass sweetly urged.” Harry growls. Malfoy’s breath smells like wine and grapes and his pupils are black, blacker, blackening. Harry inhales.</p><p> "YOUR WIFE?!" he yelps.</p><p>    “Shakespeare?” Malfoy queries./“FUCK!” Ron howls.</p><p>"You did i'without me?!" Harry says./"You and Granger?" Malfoy catches up.</p><p>    “YEAH, MY BUGGERING WIFE! ALL RIGHT, MALFOY?” and Ron finally manages to withdraw his wand from his pocket and holds it up over Harry’s head and utters, “TARANT--” but Harry slaps his wand down. </p><p>He glances back at Malfoy: he’s fine, a little shell-shocked, but fine, and so Harry grabs them both by their arms and pulls them in together.</p><p>    “Malfoy, you’re not gon'o use that thing on either us. You know inclimidation doesn’t work on me an’longer, but as’lways good efforts NOT.” Harry pauses to Invisible-Incarcero Malfoy, “Ron, but we all replied for August? I though the wedding was -- what happened! ARE BOTH OF YOU OKAY?!”</p><p>    “OH FUCK!” Ron cries. “HARRY IT JUST HAPPENED WE DIDN’T TELL ANYONE YET WE -- Hermione's going to be so disappointed with me and BLOOD MALFOY WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!"</p><p>    “Yes, all right, Weasley. Calm yourself. You two’ve been married since the second year in my mind; I do not care. However, the entire Wizarding World is going to know, and care, in about five seconds if you don’t stop thundering on about it. Unhand me Potter, and we’ll forget this unfortunate misunderstanding ever happened.” Malfoy says.</p><p>They both look at him incredulously. “I swear!” He holds his forearms and hands up in surrender. Harry had dropped the spell almost immediately after he'd set it.</p><p>    “On what?” Ron gets in really close to Malfoy’s face, and Harry really all of a sudden hopes Arys is somewhere nearby to take care of this situation, because he’s quite sure he’s lost the plot. And is very drunk, that as well.</p><p>    “On myself, the god of thine idolatry,” Malfoy mocks. </p><p>    “Ew, Malfoy,” Ron says, “You’re not an adulterer now too are you?”</p><p>    Malfoy sighs, forlorn. “On my mum. Will that suffice?” </p><p>    “Arys! Where is Arys?” Harry talks to Ron and Malfoy’s blurring hairlines. “Er, all right, Malfoy, if’ll suffice. But if I find out that you’ve told anyone before Ron and Hermione say it’s okay, and I’ll know because I’ve just put a Spell on you to know, know. see, watch,” Harry does a little zig-zag Z-shape with his wand, and mutters something unintelligible. “Yup, cast it. so I’ll know, Malfoy, I’ll know.” He turns, “Shall we henceforth doth lettihim go now, Ronald? Queen Mab will get him if he tells a single body I promise.” Harry says solemnly. He has, in fact, just improved upon a spell he was working on a few weeks ago, and hopefully worked it out. It looks right, the way it falls around Malfoy, the pink around his cheeks, the red atop his lightening-blonde hair. </p><p>Harry tilts his head and bites his tongue.</p><p>    “Good and bollocksed!” he marvels, “Malfoy can’t say a thing.”</p><p>    “And wasn’t planning to,” malfoy interrupts</p><p>    “Fine. Sod off on, Malfoy. I’m the idiot.” He pushes Malfoy and Malfoy steps back.<br/>
"Well, ‘gentlemen’. I’ll be off, this was a riot. Let's not do it again, and not soon.” Malfoy turns and fades into the colours of ballgowns and wine and sparkles and<br/>
Harry watches him retreat. There’s something about Malfoy he’s darned forgetting here.</p><p>    Ron interrupts Harry’s fragmented thoughts, “Bloody hell I’m never drinkung again. Or getting married again. Only, there’s AUGUST!” he bemoans.</p><p>    “You did got married! Can we go upstairs and you will tell me about it posthaste!” Harry smiles and tugs his best friend in the direction of the nearest staircase. </p><p> </p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>story of ron and hermione’s impromptu romantic wedding in a room upstairs and then VVVVVVVVVVVV<br/>
OH ALSO ARYS HEARS ABOUT FIGHT AND IS SUPER PISSED<br/>
LUCKILY only like 5 people saw them though and the pictures that were taken were pretty unclear.<br/>
but in the papers the next day runs a pic of the 3 of them<br/>
either huddled and spring sprung new friendships<br/>
or<br/>
fighting pic Gala goes gaga after Malfoy misbehaviour<br/>
then ron and harry catch neville and pansy coming up to their secret shag room wink wink<br/>
Isn't Neville dating Hannah?<br/>
Or Ginny?<br/>
What I'm so confused!</p><p> </p><p>666<br/>
666<br/>
666</p><p> </p><p>    “Arys, are there any more “Close Friend’s Gala pleasantries” I’ve got to perform?” Harry balled his fists into his closed eyes and pressed.</p><p>    “Say goodnight to the hostess. After that I suppose you may leave. Do you need me to accompany?” </p><p>    Sometimes she could look remarkably like McGonagall, and yet only nine years Harry’s senior.</p><p>    “No, Arys. I’ll be fine. Is there anything on for tomorrow?”</p><p>    “Saturday, March 20:<br/>
1500 Tea at the Ministry with President Harpone and his daughters<br/>
2000 Dinner at The Stirring Cauldron with Anna Gellan.”</p><p>    Harry looked at her.</p><p>    “President Harpone of Belgium. Yes?”</p><p>    “Right. Okay. Cancel with Gellian, will you? Please.”</p><p>    “I’ll Owl her in the morning.”</p><p>    “Great, thanks.” Harry removed his fists. His headache was worsening. Too much champagne. Poor fawn, Arys said with her big mean eyes.</p><p>    “Goodnight, Mr Potter.” Arys shoved him towards the door, where Hermione was embracing a wriggling Ron. </p><p>    “Goodnight, Ms Wronksy.” he said</p><p>    “Hermione! That’s my tickly spot, you ninnywobbles!” He heard as he got closer.</p><p>    He would Owl Hermione in the morning.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wow, what a gearshift!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Get off it, Arys! Parkinson’s not going to blab. We all swore an Unbreakable! Arys! Stop Stinging me!” Harry jolted into consciousness. He fell asleep on a floor.</p><p>At least it wasn't a sofa.</p><p>    “Lucy.”</p><p>    His spine was aching, his formals somewhat crumpled, (Memene would not be pleased, Harry had a feeling these were meant to last a season at least), and their  sleeves and his chin drooled all over.</p><p>    “Merlin, all right!” He shoved off the pecking ‘Daily Lucifer’ from Arys and opened the sealed parchment. </p><p>    Lucy circled around his head, waiting. She was really more vulture than owl, Harry often thought. </p><p>    “How did you even get in here?” </p><p>    Harry,<br/>    Memene instructs you wear your semi-formal sage greens for the Tea.<br/>    President Harpone and his daughters.<br/>    Belgium. <br/>    I’ll be at yours, 1400, sharp. <br/>    No lates!</p><p>    A</p><p>    After he finished the letter, Lucy (Lucifer) popped off into nothingness.</p><p>    Harry cast a Tempus. Fuck, it was already 13.</p><p> </p><p>   He scrambled to the kitchen for tea, gulped it while showering, and changed into his sage green semi-formals.</p><p>        Harry felt Arys come through the wards, 1400 sharp.</p><p>"Hark, who goes there?" He moaned.</p><p>"Tis I, the Frenchiest fry," Arys said. sober and chipper and bright.</p><p>So bright.</p><p>    “Afternoon, Harry.” </p><p>    “Arys."</p><p>"Must we review Tea etiquette once more? I don’t want you being churlish with the President’s daughters. They’re very nice girls. Buck up.”</p><p>    “It’s not my fault I woke up to a vulture pecking my face to pieces. And how did she get in my... you know what, nevermind.” Arys didn’t know about Harry’s Dark Room, and she didn’t need to. Harry smiled, big.</p><p>    “Wonderful, fawn. <br/>     That ever so special smile you typically reserve for people you actually enjoy? Use it. Abuse it. I don’t care. It’s crucial we make a good impression on the President. He’s currently in talks with the Minister over some nasty Auror and Chocolate Frog business. We need you to charm them up...” Arys went on, but Harry stopped listening somewhere after Chocolate Frog. He was really hungry.</p><p>    “Arys,” he interrupted. She glared. “Erm, will we be eating much at Tea? I’m sort of starving."</p><p>    “It’s the afternoon, Harry. Your time for breakfast has long since expired. You’ll eat at Tea, I promise. I’m not sure what, probably some Belgian specialty.”</p><p>    Harry made a face. Arys uncrossed her arms.</p><p>    “You’ll be fine, fawn.” She pat his back. “Just don’t let them hear your stomach grumbling.” </p><p>    Harry’s stomach grumbled as she mentioned it.</p><p>    “Allow me.” Arys grimaced and cast a modified Silencing spell, only applying to Harry’s hunger pains.</p><p>    “Great."</p><p>    “Give me your scalp.” She positioned his head. She plucked a jar from her overcoat, and began applying it to Harry’s hair. Astonishingly, it stuck. “Aha! Those Weasleys really do know what they’re doing. I see why you chose them.”</p><p>    “I didn't choose them. What is that goo?” Harry asked warily as she combed his fringe to the side, as she had attempted last night. </p><p>    “Severluscious Serum.” She gaped at his obedient hair as Harry groaned. </p><p>    “Hail Mary and five thousand mercies,” he grumbled.</p><p>    “Right. Dashing. Miraculous. You’re ready. Are you ready?” </p><p>    “Let’s get it done with.”</p><p>    “Me.” Arys commanded, and they Apparated to the Ministry, only three minutes behind schedule.</p><p>666</p><p>666</p><p> </p><p>    They had Tea in the Ministry’s fancy tearoom. They were served chocolate jam and Belgian waffles. Harry’s stomach was not at all complaining.</p><p>    President Harpone was perfectly polite. He thanked Harry for his services to the Wizarding, and Muggle, worlds. (One of the few to add in the Muggle, Harry noted). </p><p>    What Arys neglected to tell him was that the President’s daughters were not only Harry’s age, but very single and very exciteable. They were “humongous supporters”, they said, and spent the entire tea vying for his affections. </p><p>    Harry was perfectly polite in return. And charming. </p><p>    And so livid that he spent the entire tea (after eating, of course), imagining which Dark hex he would try on Arys as soon as the bloody tea was finished. He settled on Bloody Mary. It was infants league Dark, really, but it would do. He didn’t want to actually harm her after all, he was much too fond of her.</p><p> </p><p>    “Harry Potter, we do hope to see you once more on our holiday. We are residing in the Keeper.”</p><p>    “Our room is very private.”</p><p>    “We would love to host you, for you have so kindly hosted us.”</p><p>    The girls kissed his palms. The elder stroked the sleeves of his robes. Sage green, Memene rarely failed.</p><p>    President Harpone gave his daughters a stern glare, and Harry a mildly amused one.</p><p>    “I appreciate your invitations, very much so. Unfortunately, I’ll be quite busy the next couple of days. Perhaps we can schedule an outing to Diagon Alley, or something, erm, next week. Have you been yet?”</p><p>    “Nen, nen, not so, Harry Potter. But we must!”</p><p>    “Yes, we very must. It would be our honour.”</p><p>    “Right. Well. Thank you, President Harpone, for all of your kind words. I hope everything, I mean, I hope you’re finding your stay really enjoyable. And that you get over your fear of kippers. They’re really worth it.” Harry smiled, his last Harry Potter Charm Smile he had in him. “I’ll talk to Ms Wronsky about an engagement,” the girls tittered, “I mean, an outing, next week. She’ll contact you soon. It was really lovely.” He nodded, bowed, did some more courtesies, and finally was able to leave.</p><p>    Arys was waiting for him in the Atrium, talking wands with some Ministry wizard. It would have been the perfect time for the Bloody Mary, if only they weren’t in the Ministry of bloody fucking Magic. Some turned to watch Harry. And that was why he couldn’t do any fun stuff here. And probably why he turned down the Aurors.</p><p>    “Arys. I need some air. Outside.” He excused away the wizard.</p><p>    “Harry, do you not recognise flirting when you see it? I was getting off quite well before you stomped over. I am not your house-elf, I won’t comply with any more of these sullen orders...” and she went on for a bit longer. </p><p>    They were a block from the Ministry.</p><p>    He cast the Bloody Mary.</p><p>    “Arys, you’ve got something in your teeth.” Harry bit his lip.</p><p>    “What?!”</p><p>    “Yeah, I was just saving you from the embarassment.”</p><p>    She pulled out her pocket mirror and screamed.</p><p>    Harry snorted, and then couldn’t hold it back any longer, and laughed.</p><p>    “Spinach?” He managed. She was so preoccupied looking behind her she didn’t hear him.</p><p>    She spun back around. “Harry, fawn, did you notice just now, anything... unusual?”</p><p>    “A bloody girl standing behind you in your pocket mirror, say?” Harry mimed an innocent face.</p><p>    “You cursed me.” She rose up all her five feet seven inches and nearly growled at him.</p><p>    “You tried to marry me off.” He glared down at her with equal violence, and then smiled. “Now, we’re even.”</p><p>    “If you weren’t Harry Potter, Harry Potter, I’d resign this moment.”</p><p>    “But I’d be lost without you and the same goes reversed.” He enveloped her into a big, squishy hug. He let go after he felt her arms reach around his back tentatively. And stepped back. “Oh, and you’ve got to send Lucy to the Belgian daughters and arrange some touristy meeting up next week. I’m pretty free on Neversday, aren’t I?” And he grinned. “Don’t worry. It’ll only last a day.” </p><p>    He grinned like a lion.</p><p>     “Probably.” </p><p>    And then Apparated immediately home.</p><p>666<br/>666</p><p> </p><p>    Harry was almost too afraid of Arys’ retaliation to leave the house. But she was a Slytherin, and she was predictable in that way, so he knew she would wait good and hard for the opportune moment. He wasn’t worried, they had been through these sorts of games before. They were rather fun, after all. <br/>    He was sure, however, he would be spending an importune amount of time with the Belgian sisters next week. </p><p> </p><p>666<br/>666<br/>666</p><p>    Sounds of sirens roused Harry from  early sleep. </p><p>    “What the ever-loving fuck now?” He grumbled. From a small slit in the curtains, red, blue and white lights danced around his bedroom. </p><p>    It wasn’t often crimes (Wizarding, Muggle, or otherwise) occurred so near Harry’s place of residence. It had happened once before, and he was asked to speak as witness despite the fact he never saw the mugging take place. He only woke when the shouting began. Habit, he supposed at the time. What it was now, he had no idea and was reluctant to find out. </p><p>    Whatever it was, he had a gloomy bulb lodged in his gut portending certain doom.</p><p>    He took a second, a simple foggy second, to grab his glasses and propel to the window. He cast a Disillusionment and opened the curtains. </p><p>    His breath caught a bubble in his throat.</p><p>    No, the bloody body lying in the square would certainly not bode well for Mister Harry Potter.</p><p>    He cursed, as he watched the Muggle paramedics surround the body, take photographs. </p><p>    He shut the curtains and taking a quick moment to weigh the pros and the cons and going with pro, grabbed the old Invisibility out from the chest where it was kept.</p><p>    Invisibility well tucked and on, he Apparated down to the street below.</p><p> </p><p>    He ended up safely behind a shrub, where he was well enough hidden if he made any coughs or mistaking sweeps of the hand, and where he could observe most of the proceedings. Even under the Invisibility, Harry could smell the magic dissapating from the crime scene, rising from the body of the unknown man. </p><p>    A crying girl and two policemen were huddled near enough that Harry could hear their conversation. The stranger was, apparently, walking her home from a second date. No, she didn’t know him very well. It was only a second date. She couldn’t remember exactly what happened after they left the theatre. There were flashes. Lights. And then he was bloody and dead. She only remembered him saying, “Red cloak. Gold mask.” No, she didn’t know what that meant. She didn’t know if he had any enemies. They met on the internet. </p><p>    This girl was a Muggle and this crime had clearly been committed by a wizard, or wizards. Harry reckoned he ought to let the Aurors know, but how would he explain? </p><p>“Oh, my millions of Dark wards went off, I saw a dead body outside my window. Naturally, I decided to pop down there in my Invisibility Cloak first, you know, morbid curiousity. And don’t forget, I’m Harry Potter. Yeah, yes, that Invisibility Cloak. The Deathly Hallow you never need to know exists but you may have heard rumours. And, by the way, I can see magic. And smell it. And other stuff I can’t really explain yet. Yes, that powerful. Erm, sorry I forgot to mention that in my most recent interview. Also, you should know, it was my minions that I heard were involved in this one. Red cloaks, gold masks, the usual Potter preferences. Yep, right outside my bloody steps. Such a coincidence, right? Sounds plausible, right? Well-done, me!”</p><p>    He could tell Ron, surely. He didn’t know where Ron was at the moment, but someone needed to get here quick, before the Muggles took jurisdiction. </p><p>    Harry considered his next move. He could Floo Ron, but it was likely he was sleeping if home. </p><p>He Apparated silently back inside his home.</p><p>    Harry eschewed the Invisibility, chucked a handful of green powder into the fireplace and shoved his head inside. </p><p>    “Harry Potter for Ministry of Magic, Auror HQ, Urgent.”</p><p>    He waited, his toes tapping uncomfortably.</p><p>    “Mr Potter?”</p><p>    It was Rosier. </p><p>    “Yeah, erm, hey. Someone’s been murdered outside Grimmauld. I heard sirens, I woke up. Think you might want to stop by and check it out before the Muggles haul everything away.”</p><p>    Rosier looked skeptical, still standing above the Floo.</p><p>    “What makes you think this is a Wizarding crime, and not the usual Muggle violence?”</p><p>    “Erm, the wards. My wards went off! It’s right outside my window! Don’t you think that’s a bit of a coincidence?” </p><p>    Harry couldn’t tell them about snooping in the Invisibility. For one, he made sure they didn’t know he still had the thing, and two, it wasn’t exactly protocol. It would only cast suspicion.</p><p>    Rosier hummed. <br/>    “I suppose.”</p><p>    She toyed with a loose strand of hair, chewing the insides of her mouth. </p><p>    “Look, I’m just. I’ve got a feeling. And if you don’t hurry the Muggles are about to cart everything away and we’ll lose this one.”</p><p>    “We?” Rosier lowered her head.</p><p>    “You. Us, wizards, whatever! Just hurry! Trust me!”</p><p>    Harry’s urgency made her less likely to comply, he was finding.</p><p>    He sighed.</p><p>    “Look, I... I’ve got a ward that detects any Dark magic within a hundred foot radius. I promise, it’s real, it concerns you guys. Can you just get here?”</p><p>    She closed her eyes, as if Harry was the most trying person on the planet and making the most impossible request a person could possibly make.</p><p>    “All right, Mr Potter. We’ll be there shortly.”</p><p>    “Great.” Harry forced a grimace. “Thanks.”</p><p>    And withdrew his head from the fire.</p><p>    He raced to the window. He sent out an Impedimenta, hoping to slow the Muggles’ progress so the Aurors could get there in time and handle the situation. Maybe not the brightest idea, but they were clearing out, and he didn’t know what else to do.</p><p> </p><p>    This clearly wasn’t a coincidence. But it also didn’t make any sense.</p><p> </p><p>    Other than the red and gold.</p><p> </p><p>    Harry heard the usual wards and unthinking, yanked the door open.</p><p>    “Finally! Now what’s going on?!” He cried into<br/>    the face of a very disgruntled and bathrobed Arys.</p><p>    “Just the question I was going to ask you, Harold James.”</p><p>    “Arys.”</p><p>    “Move.”</p><p>    Harry acquiesced silently. When Arys referred to him as “Harold James”, no matter how many times he protested that wasn’t his name, it meant she was upset. Supremely upset. And nobody could get upset with “Harold James” quite like Arys.</p><p>    She slammed the door. In dragonskin heels and a mask of some goo on her face, she stalked down the flight of stairs to the kitchen.</p><p>"Ask me!"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Who am I, Harry?"</p><p>Where had his care gone?</p><p>"Oh, right. Hark, who goes there?"</p><p>"Tis I, the Frenchiest Fry," Arys said through clenched teeth and jaw, puckered lips and a whitening face.</p><p>    “Arys --”</p><p>    “Harold! James! There is a bloody body a metre from your stoop and Aurors Obliviating Muggle police to Muggle oblivion. Explain, and quickly.” </p><p>    Harry relayed the events, honestly, as he did trust Arys and what else were publicists for, if not to protect you from the public? </p><p>    By the time Harry reached the end of the story, Arys hair was literally on fire, and the goop melting from her face. </p><p>    “And well, yeah, so they listened to me. Which was good. Is good. What was going on out there?”</p><p>    She simply glared.</p><p>    “Red cloaks and gold masks, you say?”</p><p>    “Erm, yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s what the girl said. She was a bit hysterical though, I guess it could have been something...” And Harry withered into silence.</p><p>    “We’re going to skip the part in which I remonstrate you for having left me out of this. I had to hear it from bloody MARSHALL IN THE FLOO DEPARTMENT! HAROLD JAMES, THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME. AM I MAKING MYSELF CLEAR. NO, AM I MAKING MYSELF SO VERY SOLID THAT IF YOU CROSS ME YOU WILL RUN SMACK INTO ME AND ESCAPE WITH LITTLE MORE THAN YOUR LIFE. AM I, HAROLD?”</p><p>    “It’s Harry, Arys, and yes. I understand. It just, it happened so quickly. I didn’t know what to do.”</p><p>    “Harry my BLEACHED ARSEHOLE.”</p><p>    “Arys, your hair is on fire.”</p><p>    “I REALISE THIS, POTTER. THERE ARE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS AT STAKE PRESENTLY THAN THE STATE OF MY HAIR BUT THANK YOU FOR NOTICING. YOUR ATTENTION TO DETAIL IS AS ALWAYS PRECISE.”</p><p>    “Sorry. Arys, I’m really sorry.”</p><p>    “Don’t think your sorries are going to get you off this time, Harry. We will be discussing the ramifications of your thoughtless behaviour tomorrow. But now. To attend to the present.” She spelled her hair wet and it flopped orange on her shoulders. She Cleanse-charmed the goo off of her face. “The Aurors will be knocking in minutes to question you. It is imperative, IMPERATIVE, HAROLD JAMES, that you mention nothing of your escapade. And this ward you claimed? You and I both know no such ward exists. If they find it out, your goose is cooked. BROILED. GASSED. FRIED. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? Saviour or not, they’ll take you in for formal questioning and it won’t look good at all. Obviously, none of this looks good. But, luckily, I remind you, you have me. <br/>    The first thing you have to do --”</p><p> </p><p>    The wards emitted a high-pitched laugh.</p><p>    “Oh, Harold, is that really necessary?”</p><p>    “Yes, Arys. Actually, it is.”</p><p>    Harry was pissed, about to storm out of the room to answer the door another time, before Arys grabbed him by the waist of his pants and whipped him around to face her.</p><p>    “You need to make that ward exist, Harry. Tonight. Immediately.”</p><p>    Harry nodded. </p><p>    “Bring them down here. I’ll prepare the tea.”</p><p>    Harry nodded, mute, again.</p><p>    Harry found Rosier and another Auror at his door, (Whimbly? Whimbers?). </p><p>    “Mr Potter, I’m Auror Whittery. Auror Rosier and I have some questions for you, if you wouldn’t mind.” He smiled politely.</p><p>    “Of course. My pub-- Ms Wronsky was making us tea in the kitchen. Do you mind if we conduct the interview down there?” Harry suggested.</p><p>    “Not at all.” Whittery (not even close, sort-of), smiled again. Rosier just stared into the house, emotionless.</p><p>    “Right, well, this way then.” </p><p>    He escorted the two Aurors down to the kitchen where Arys had done a dab hand at cleaning up the mess Harry had left. She even managed to spell her bathrobe and into a suit and heels. The pool of goo was gone from the floor, and Harry pulled out chairs for the three of his ‘guests’. </p><p>    Arys set the kettle and cups on the table, and dealt them out.</p><p>    “So, what’s going on? What happened out there?”</p><p>    Rosier stuck her index finger into her cup while eyeing Harry.</p><p>    “Officially Auror business now, Mr Potter. Any details you think your celebrity status earns you no longer apply.”</p><p>    “I don’t think --” Harry rose</p><p>    “I’m sure,” Arys placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, pressing and Sting Hexing him back into his seat, “Mr Potter is merely concerned about the disturbing events that have taken place outside of his home this evening.”</p><p>    “Yes, well, Saviour complex or none, this isn’t any more of Mr Potter’s concern than it is his sleeping neighbors.” Rosier smirked.</p><p>    Harry huffed. </p><p>    “So, you’re not going to tell me anything? About a murder, that I alerted you to, that just happened outside my bloody --”</p><p>    “Mr Potter.” Whittery interrupted, peaceably. “First, let us thank you for your alerting us to this, devastating thing. It was the right thing to do.” He placated. “However, as the matter is now under Auror investigation we can’t give out any more details than strictly necessary. I’m sure you’re very unsettled right now, and all of this is of course extremely stressful. If it’s your safety you’re concerned about, we’ll happily arrange for a Guard to watch over the square until we’ve... well, solved this.”</p><p>    “Yes, we can do that. But first, we’ve got a few questions.” Rosier harshed. Good cop, bad cop, just like on the telly but in his own kitchen, Harry thought. </p><p>    “Of course.” Harry breathed, as Arys patted his shoulder in the soothing pats she did to calm him down.</p><p>    “When did your ward, as you claim, let you know of the magic amiss outside?”</p><p>    Harry thought. He didn’t even know the time, he forgot to check in the debacle.</p><p>    “I, well, I was asleep. I woke up to the ward going off. It took me a while to inspect it and figure out what was going on. Then I heard sirens and saw the body from my window.”<br/>    Harry lied. He should have seen something after his ward went off, he knew it. Fuck, he was fucked, he was fried, just like Arys had said. </p><p>    “And, Mr Potter, you contacted the Auror Department as soon as you had retempered your ward?”</p><p>    “Yeah, as soon as I saw the body and the Muggle police handling it. I waited, a little, because I initially thought you guys would show up first, but when I realised you hadn’t, I...” Harry trailed off, chewing his nail.</p><p>    “Informed me of the murder on your street.” Rosier smiled cloyingly.</p><p>    “Well, yeah, of course. What else was I going to do?”</p><p>    “How were you so sure it was a murder?” Rosier probed.</p><p>    “I mean, I wasn’t positive, but the ward, and the bloody body. That’s what that all kind-of communicated to me.” Harry shot back.</p><p>    “This ward, I’m very curious about. I’ve never heard of such a ward.” Rosier stated. The cupboard flapped in indignance.</p><p>    Harry looked at Arys, asking her the silent question. Would they ask to see it now? What should he say? </p><p>    “Oh, tell them, fawn. It’s only done us good.” She flared her nostrils just the slightest so only Harry would notice and hold meaning.</p><p>    “I invented it. Sort-of.” He managed to look a bit guilty, a bit proud, to both Rosier and Whittery.</p><p>    “You realise, Mr Potter, regardless of your good name and standing, inventing and using a new spell without Ministry approval is breaking a law?” Whitterly asked gently.</p><p>    “I know. Well, I didn’t know until after I had already put it in place. Like months after. And,--” Harry was beginning to ramble and was hoping on an Arys interruption.</p><p>    “It’s okay, Mr Potter. We’re not accusing you of anything.” Whittery</p><p>    Despite that they just had, right.</p><p>    “Clearly the ward wasn’t meant to harm anyone. We will, however, have to have some of our Spell-Masters come tomorrow to look it over, to be sure. I’m sure they’ll also be quite curious as to how it works.” Whittery smiled, again, kindly.</p><p>    “Yes,” Rosier purred, “quite curious. What a remarkable talent you’ve been hiding, Mr Potter. And how useful.”</p><p>    “I guess when I’ve still got people trying to off me, or trying to creep through the windows, or chasing me home for a surprise snog, I’ve had to find new ways of protecting myself. And my friends.” Harry defended. He was heating up again, and Arys began her patting. </p><p>    “Of course, Mr Potter. It is, in your circumstances, probably very necessary. Please, do believe me when I tell you we aren’t casting any aspersions on you, or anyone associated with you. We just need to follow procedure, be as thorough as possible. You know that. Of course you do, with Weasley as your mate.” Whittery assured again. He had a voice that was just the right volume, and just the right pitch, to put everyone around him at ease. Harry wondered if it was a charm of some sort. A ‘legal’ charm. He snickered behind his tea mug.</p><p>    Arys Stung Hexed his back, and then slapped the spot heartily. </p><p>    “All right, Harry?” She faked concern.</p><p>    “Yeah. Yeah.</p><p>    “So, erm, are there any more questions or any, stuff?” Harry asked awkwardly, fumbling with his mug. Faking his hesitance. Arys really did teach him well.</p><p>    “Not at the moment, Mr Potter. Again, we’re both very sorry that this has happened so close to your home, and very thankful that you were there to get us on it immediately.” <br/>Whittery assured. “And again, if you’d sleep sounder with a Guard outside, just say the word and we’ll have them here in a jiff.” </p><p>    Harry almost snorted at that. He’d been in far worse situations than this and had never required a “Ministry Guard” to sleep soundly. To sleep at all, even. </p><p>    “Yes.” Arys declared. Harry almost snapped his spine about to whip around to her, but, knowing his thoughts and movements as well as she did, Arys partially-Incarceroused him still. “Harry would like a Guard. At least one Auror. Wouldn’t you, fawn?” She looked at him, all honey and imploring. Her fresh orange hair certainly helped the act. He felt the invisible ties lift. “If you won’t do it for your own peace of mind, do it for mine, will you?” She got bright around the eyes. The fake tears. Oh, Arys. The queen of Slytherins. </p><p>    As convincing as her act was, Harry knew she had some alternative reason for wanting a Ministry Guard around the square. He supposed he could go along with it, for now.<br/>    “Fine, Arys.” He rolled his eyes and sighed, as one would with an overbearing mother, and looked back to Rosier and Whittery. </p><p>    “If it’s not too much trouble, like Ms Wronsky said, just one Auror is fine.” Harry smiled, “I’d appreciate it, and I’ll never hear the end of it if I don’t.”</p><p>    “Great, Mr Potter. I’m happy to hear it. We’ll see who we can spare and send them over as soon as we get everything in order.” Whittery reassured, Arys and Harry.</p><p>    “Thank you so much, Auror Whittery. You have no idea the relief I feel.” Arys gushed. </p><p>    “Of course, Ms Wronsky, Mr Potter. Just doing our jobs.”</p><p>    “Yes, just doing our jobs.” Rosier gleamed unpleasantly.</p><p>    “Is that all then, or, do you need anything else?” Harry asked, pretending to sound tired, worried, and eager to assist all in one small question.</p><p>    “Our Spell-Masters will be here tomorrow, or shall I say today, to inspect that ingenius ward of yours, Mr Potter. Perhaps it can tell us some things about this grievous event yet unknown.” Rosier spiked. “Expect them in the late morning. We will be seeing you.”</p><p>    “But hopefully only when this is all over.” Whittery mourned, and with that, he and Rosier took their leave. Harry walked them back up the stairs.</p><p>    “Thank you, again. Erm, one last question,” He stammered, “When will the Guard be here? Just so I can tell Arys and make sure she sleeps some tonight?”</p><p>    “An hour, perhaps. Maybe less. We’ll send the finest we can spare. Don’t you worry, Mr Potter. We’ve got this now.” Rosier chimed, and with that, they walked to the Apparition point and vanished.</p><p>“My goddamn arse they’ve got this. And oi, wha--”</p><p>    Arys held up a finger. Shook her head sharp. Gestured pointedly all around the kitchen. Conjured a plume and parchment and began writing while speaking, “The Guard, Harry? I’m worried. Isn’t that much obvious? A murder, or something, happened just outisde your door this evening. Night. Day, whatever time it bloody is. I highly doubt the chances of it being mere coincidence.”</p><p>    “I know, Arys. I know.” Harry gritted. “But I can’t do anything about it.” Harry went on, as Arys continued writing, maybe to fill the space and maybe because he needed to talk himself through it aloud, “I thought all this was through. Like Voldemort wasn’t enough for a lifetime.” Harry slammed himself back into a chair and took the note Arys passed him. </p><p>    “I know, fawn. The scar that kept you alive seems to keep you just as near death as well.” And then she went on to wax philosophy, to let Harry read her note, he was sure.</p><p>    <em>They’ve Sneak-spelled the house. They can only hear us. I don’t know how you missed that, honestly, Harold James. <br/>    They’re going to have an Auror, or more, on you whether or not you request one. Better to have at least one out in the open. <br/>    Now, go make that fucking ward a reality before I kill you in your own bloody square. <br/>    Don’t be an idiot.</em></p><p>    What this meant, Harry knew, but nice to have confirmed by Arys all the same, was that the Aurors, or at least Rosier, positively suspected him of some sort of lying or treachery in this affair. Of course they did. That was the whole point of the murder, Harry presumed. </p><p>    Secondly, Harry did miss the Sneak-spelling, which was not usual for him. He wasn’t only physically exhausted by the murder, but magically as well. He would have to begin exercising more regularly again.</p><p>    Third, him being so magically exhausted would make it near impossible for him alone to create and set in place a ward of such strength as he described to the Aurors. And he couldn’t go to any of his friends for help on this, the Aurors would surely be expecting that movement in a lie.</p><p>    Fourth, he was already an idiot for what he was considering, but he really had no other options at this juncture.</p><p>    “... Mother’s sacrifice, I can’t begin to fathom, but I do care so dearly for you, Harry...” Arys monologued on, letting Harry work through everything in his mind.</p><p>    “Arys, I’m there with you. I know. I care for you the same. Well, not the same probably, but, you know. I do care.” Harry glared at her daggers, but was sincere in his words. She knew, and smiled melancholic.</p><p>    “Shall I make more tea?” </p><p>    “And then you’ll sleep?” Arys harped.</p><p>    “And then you’ll sleep?” Harry returned.</p><p>    “Yes. I will.” </p><p>    Arys passed him another parchment.</p><p>    <em>They may be watching your place for comers and goers. They won’t be able to tell who is leaving and who is coming, however. They’ll only know that someone is. It won’t matter about your wards, as I felt them cast the curse on the threshold of your entryway. <br/>    Take me, and the Cloak. <br/>    Again, don’t be an idiot.</em></p><p>    He got into his cupboards as he read, getting tea ready but also grabbing out two jugs from his cupboard. </p><p>    He put the kettle on, set the jugs on the table. </p><p>    “Yours is on the left.” He pointed to Arys. </p><p>    “Lovely, fawn.” She gave him a face that was anything but.</p><p>    They drank their tea, and Arys swallowed a bit of golden potion from one jug, Harry a reedy, electric chartreuse from the other. </p><p>    “Superb.” Arys said, in Harry’s chair. Harry (Harys) handed Arys (Arry) his glasses. Arry put them on, pouting, and picking at her foreign skin. She moaned. </p><p>    “Cheer up, fawn, it’s going to be fine. Absolutely fine.” Harys chucked.</p><p>    “Fine is a comfort. Absolutely is not.” </p><p> </p><p>    Harys made his way out of Grimmauld in all of Arys’ clothing she had been wearing earlier, and had to spell his hair orange, as was her new fashion for all intents and purposes. The Polyjuice didn’t have that on record, this brew. He had the Invisibility in his purse, and Arys’ wand up his sleeve. It was so unfortunate those moments he had to part with his Holly. So reminiscent of a dreary time he’d much rather forget. </p><p>    He saw the Aurors had delivered on their promise sooner than expected. He waved to the Guard, (two Aurors -- neither Harry recognised), and thanked them profusely for their protection. He was Harys, after all. He had to play the part.</p><p>    After speaking with the Aurors, very convincingly, (Harys grinned to himself), he Apparated off, wishing them both a good and safe night. </p><p>    Harys, on the other hand, was preparing to have neither, as he pounded on the windows of Malfoy’s London flat.</p><p> </p><p>“May I help you with something?” Malfoy cried from his bed.</p><p>“Draco, oh Draco, wherefore art thou Draco? Deny thy father and refuse thy name, and I’ll no longer be a--” Harys went on, amused despite the awful night he had had so far, and Malfoy whipped open the glass pane.</p><p>“Really? At this hour? Do you know, Ms Wronsky, exactly what time it is? There is no emergency that you could possibly require me for at this hour and even if there were such an emergency I--” Malfoy scorned.</p><p>“Let me in, let me in, by the hair on my chinny chin chin," Harry sang. Malfoy gaped.</p><p>"As much as I wish I could do this all night, it's me, Potter."</p><p>Malfoy shut his mouth. Blinked. Inhaled. Pinched his nose. Blinked. shut his eyes. looked at Harry. He inhaled and rolled his eyes so dramatically Harry thought they'd get stuck like that and let Harry enter.</p><p>He shut the glass.</p><p>    “I knew you’d been reading Shakespeare.” Malfoy accused. “Potter, we may be cordial with one another in public these days, barring recent occasions, but it does not mean I shan’t excavate your tiny little skull just to see what’s in there that makes you think you’re so bloody important you think you can intrude here, at my window, at bloody dawn. And why are you, NOT you?”</p><p>    “Malfoy, shut the fuck up, please. Sorry. That’s probably not the best way to go about beginning to ask you for a favour.” Harys amends.</p><p>    “None of this is probably the best way to go about asking me for a favour. I’d suggest you return home, stick your head under your cushions, and --” Malfoy yawned, mid-bit  Harys couldn’t help but cackle. Well, laugh, would normally be how he did it, but as Arys, certain things about a person couldn’t help but change.</p><p>    “Listen, Malfoy, this is really serious. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. You know as well as I do how terrifically we don’t get on. But I need your help, or something probably  terrible is going to happen.” Harys pleaded.</p><p>    “Oh. I was under the impression something terrible was ALREADY happening. My mistake.” </p><p>    “Something terrible did already happen! Someone was murdered outside my fucking house, Malfoy! And then I... I did some stupid shit, that I don’t need to go into detail with you about, and I made something up that I can’t possibly do on my own. And you’re the last person the Aurors would think I’d go to for help and the best person available to do the favour. Probably the only one.” Harys almost begged.</p><p>    “And why should I?” Malfoy looked a bit mollified, but glared up at him all the same -- Arys was, in heels, taller than the both of them.</p><p>    “Because you’re the only one that can! Please. It’s, -- Arseing Merlin -- it’s a fucking ward I made up and you are the wizard who does the timey-wimey magic now aren’t you?”</p><p>    “Timey-wimey?” Malfoy hissed.</p><p>    “Malfoy, just shut up. Right now. I never thought I’d say this, and believe me, I never wanted to, but, you owe me. You know you do and well, I’m cashing in. That desperate. Please.” Harys paused for a breath, “And I need it tonight. Like, now. Before tomorrow morning. And you have to use my wand. I think. Most likely.” Harys grimaced. He knew how Malfoy would despise everything he said but Malfoy did owe him and he wasn’t too noble any longer to cash in on those debts if needs must.</p><p>    Malfoy snorted, almost smiled, knowing Harys’ silly thoughts. </p><p>    “You hate asking me just about as much as I’m going to hate doing it, I’m sure. And as custom dictates --” </p><p>    “Yeah, right, great, okay, cool. I don’t have time for a nap, Malfoy. Listen.” </p><p>    Malfoy clenched his fingers into each steeples. Harys’ laughed. Cackled, whatever.</p><p>    “I,” Harys closed his eyes as he reveled in his own humiliation, “I told the Aurors’ I knew that the murder was magic because I had a ward up that could detect Dark magic in a hundred metre radius from Grimmauld. I told them I invented it.” He flushed. At least he wasn’t wearing his own face. “The Spell-Masters are to come late this morning and inspect said make-believe ward, and I need it to not be so make-believe by then. Can you help me?” He opened his eyes and tried to appear as miserable and helpless as he could, with Arys face and all not withstanding. </p><p>    Malfoy shook his head. </p><p>    “What?! But!” Harys’ stammered. Had anyone ever refused him help before? Surely not recently, he thought. He was really getting carried away with this celebrity lifestyle, wasn’t he?</p><p>    “Okay, Malfoy, sorry, I --”</p><p>    Malfoy held up a hand. </p><p>    “I’m not saying I can’t do it. I’m not even saying I won’t. I’m merely trying to convey the enormous amount of disdain I feel towards you, in this moment. Are you an idiot on purpose, like, do you intentionally go out of your way to try?” Malfoy mused. Despite all of his grumbling and whinging earlier, he was beginning to look amused, albeit begrudingly, and, Harys hoped, a peak interested.</p><p>    “Yes, sure, fine. Probably I do. Probably it’s so ingrained in my stupid tiny baby Muggle-raised brain by now that I do it on habit. Wouldn’t surprise me after tonight. So you’ll do it? Can we go now?” Harys urged. He kept glancing at the shimmering clock on Malfoy’s wall. </p><p>    “May a man dress himself first?” </p><p>    “Yeah, sure, fine. Hurry up, though. It’s not a pageant.”</p><p>    Malfoy yawned and stretched luxuriously, cracking his neck one way, and then the other. </p><p>    “Malfoy, please. I need you.” Harys spat.</p><p>    “Fine, fine. Give me ten minutes.”</p><p>    “Five.”</p><p>    “Fine.”</p><p>    “Go.”</p><p>    “You’re welcome, by the way.” He called out as he entered an adjoining room.</p><p>    “Yeah, you’re welcome, for saving your arse all those bloody times I did, and saying nice things about you to the Wizengamot, and to the Prophet, and, oh, right, for not punching your stupid pointy nose back into your stupid pointy face every time I see you.” Harys muttered.</p><p>    “For that I am grateful, Potter. Truly.” Malfoy yelled, muffled by some bodily movement going on in the other room. Harys had a horrfic suspicion, just then.</p><p>    “Is that your closet in there? You have a closet, that you can literally walk into, like a seperate room? I mean, mine makes sense, but how many bloody sets of black dress robes does one person need?”</p><p>    “One person may never know.” Malfoy stepped out from the closet, dressed spectacularly in another one of his black dress robes, and smirked. “How’s my hair? Will there be photographers?” </p><p>    “Shut up, Malfoy, and come on.” Harys, becoming Harry now as the room grew blurred, began Transfiguring Malfoy’s bedcovers in an effort to make him move faster. </p><p>    “What do you think you’re doing?” He asked menacing, silky, as Harry slammed his glasses onto his face. And then he saw Malfoy’s face collapse into hysterical laughter. </p><p>    “Oh, Potter, you look darling. Where’s my Pensieve?” He laughed, and laughed. </p><p>    “Are you finished? Yeah, okay, brilliant. Let’s go.” Harys shook his head. Arys clothing was really not the issure at the moment and really Malfoy was the absolute limit.</p><p>    “Potter. You, in that skirt, is well-worth whatever demontors are about to come my way. Thank you.”</p><p>    Harry stomped over to the laughing idiot, threw the Invisibility Cloak over the both of them to be doubly safe, and grabbed onto the twat’s elbow, yanking him, Apparating through his wards and into Harry’s Dark Room. </p><p>    They breathed in the silence and darkness of the room for less than the second it took Malfoy to begin shouting about his wards and common decency and “Oh, Salazar, Potter, have you Splinched us? Are we in the Nothingness? Did you fuck up Apparating so badly that --”</p><p>    Harry conjured a light. Malfoy blinked.</p><p>    “Oh.”</p><p>    “Yeah. You’re fine.”</p><p>    “This place reeks of magic.” Malfoy sniffed delicately, but began to look curious. “And the state the atmos’ in? Where are we?”</p><p>    “My house.” Harry didn’t feel the desire at the moment, or ever, to explain the intricacies of his Dark Room to Draco Malfoy. “This is my... whatever, erm... This is safest room in the house. I’m going to change.” He looked over at Malfoy, touching the walls and performing little bits of magic with his own wand, too distracted now to comment on Harry’s appearance, “Can you read all my existing wards from here?” </p><p>    “Yes. I should be able to.” Malfoy said.</p><p>    “Good. So, do that, and then get started on the new one. The one I “invented”? You remember, right?” Malfoy was started to go gloss-eyed, and Harry was beginning to worry he’d forgotten their agreement and the urgency of the situation. </p><p>    “Yes, of course. You weren’t lying, though, you’ve invented wards. Two, I’m certain of. And others, unsuccessful?” Malfoy looked over at Harry, entirely serious.</p><p>    “Yeah, two I did invent, just not the one I told the Aurors I had, remember?”</p><p>    “Of course I remember. I’m just... impressed, I suppose. And a couple wards a shade Darker than the norm, eh?” Malfoy quirked his eyebrows. “Mister Potter, I am impressed. You realise these will counteract with the ward you’ve claimed to have set.” He looked merely interested.</p><p>    “Shit. Forgot. Need wand, be back.”</p><p>    Harry Apparated upstairs to a more calm Arys sitting in the parlour, reading. </p><p>    “Romeo and Juliet?” she mouthed.</p><p>    “Yeah, wand me?” he gestured. They each exchanged respective wands and Arys went back to reading as if nothing at all terrible had happened this evening. She didn’t even seem interested in where Harry had been or how he’d gotten back in without the spells noticing.</p><p>    Harry Apparated back into the Dark Room. He waved his wand a few times in some patterns. </p><p>    “There. They’re down for now. Will the Spell-Masters be able to detect them? That they’ve ever been?”</p><p>    “I doubt it, but as I am not sure, I’ll eradicate their time-traces completely.”</p><p>    “Right. Good. Thanks. Here, you’ll need it, yeah?” Harry handed over his wand hesitantly, about to snatch it back at any second.</p><p>    “Fair’s fair Potter. You toyed with my wand, now I toy with yours.” Malfoy looked on, almost smirking, almost revering. </p><p>    “Did a little more than toying, but yeah. Fine. Take it.” Harry closed his eyes as Malfoy grabbed the wand. </p><p>    “Language, Potter.” Harry groaned and Malfoy prodded Harry’s empty, wriggling hand with his wand. “Here. Fair’s fair, after all.” Malfoy admitted with grace Harry didn’t know he possessed.</p><p>    “Thank you.”</p><p>    “Now, how long did you tell the Aurors you’d had the fake ward up?” </p><p>    “Erm, fuck. I can’t remember. Arys’ll know. She’s upstairs. I’m going to change. I’ll be back. I’m leaving you here, you can manage, right?” </p><p>    Malfoy responded with a slightly withering stare. </p><p>    “Can you start on it now?”</p><p>    “I am. Off you pop,” Malfoy waved Harry away. Harry took a moment to pause in the doorway to watch him work. It reminded him unsettlingly of Dumbledore and Voldemort’s Cave. He still couldn’t speak with magic like that, but it seemed Malfoy could. It was as entrancing, as eerie as it was when he had watched Dumbledore so many years ago. </p><p>    He banged his head on the threshold, and Apparated out before Malfoy could comment.</p><p>    Changed into simple jeans and a white t-shirt, Harry burst into the parlour.</p><p>    “Ar--” Arys held up a sharp, pointed finger. He growled and grabbed a sheet of parchment and began scrawling while thinking up something plausible to say to his supposedly empty parlour, “Fucking... lamp... handle... thingy! Argh!” He sputtered.</p><p>    Arys shook her head disdainfully at the hard-covered book in her hands.</p><p>    Harry kicked the leg of the nearest table. He tossed her the parchment.</p><p>    <em>How long did I tell the aurors I had fake ward up for? Can’t remember Malfoy needs to know</em></p><p>    Arys widened and rolled her eyes simultaneously. </p><p>    <em>You didn’t. Let’s say it’s been 7 mo. Yes?</em></p><p>    Harry nodded, and popped back down to the Dark Room.</p><p>    “Malfoy,” </p><p>    Malfoy startled and dropped his wand. The floor vibrated and the walls turned lavander.</p><p>    “Merlin, Potter, really, announce yourself kindly. Someone could be severely damaged, I’d hate for it to be me.”</p><p>    “Right, sorry. You’re right. Erm, you can only Apparate in and out this room. Loads of enchantments. What’s the best way?” It was dangerous business to go around interrupting people casting and playing with complex magic, Malfoy was right. The Dark Room was the Dark Room for a reason, after all.</p><p>    “How about simply, ‘don’t interrupt me again, you prat’, being the best way.” Malfoy had sweat on his forehead. Just a dot, but Harry noticed it all the same, and smiled.</p><p>    “”Course, dear. I just came to say I didn’t tell the Aurors any specific length of time so let’s go with seven months. Can you do that? Is that too long?” Harry chewed.</p><p>    “It shouldn’t be.” Malfoy made some prodding movements with his wand, and hummed. “Yes, the Spell-Masters should read it as seven months.”</p><p>    “Should? I can’t really have any shoulds or variables, Malfoy. See, I might be accused of murder, or lying, or some shit, if this doesn’t work, okay? So I need to know.”</p><p>    “Go away and I will find you when I’ve finished. Then you’ll know.” </p><p>    Harry fumed, but couldn’t really see any other options. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>    He went up to the parlour. He conversed via parchment with Arys regarding their next few steps. Arys, Malfoy, and Harry would perform an Unbreakable Vow in the Dark Room, ensuring Malfoy’s silence. (A very uncomfortable and somewhat lengthy exchange during which Harry had to tell Arys most everything about the Dark Room and why it even existed. She nearly set herself afire again.) </p><p>    Arys would Apparate through the Dark Room once Malfoy and the Vow were finished, Malfoy would Apparate through the Dark Room once Malfoy and the Vow were finished, and Harry would try and sleep, please. </p><p> </p><p>    <em>Late morning, in Ministry-speak, is usually more like early afternoon. However, in your case and as this is a murder investigation, they may want to catch you off your guard and come earlier. Be prepared for all times. </em></p><p>    Harry was reading and digesting this unpleasant and yet unsurprising note, as Arys waved her arm grandly and nearly poked out his eye. </p><p>    He looked up, agitated, more and more agitation this night, and was about to tell her off SILENTLY, when he realised she was looking not at him but at someone behind him.</p><p>    “Fuck.” Malfoy.</p><p>    He looked behind him at a spelled-silent Malfoy, gesticulating madly. He brought his finger to his lips very pointedly, and nodded to the chair next to him.</p><p>    Malfoy huffed into the cushioned seat. He grabbed the piece of parchment from Harry’s hands and began writing. He passed it back after an agonizing minute.</p><p> </p><p>    <em>The ward is up and complete. I am positive that the Spell-Masters will read its presence at no more than seven months and no less than five. Is that acceptable? You’re very fucking welcome, by the by.</em></p><p> </p><p>    Harry read, passed it to Arys, and nodded and mouthed ‘Thank you’ to Malfoy multiple times.</p><p>    ‘Sneak-sensors?’ He mouthed back, while pointing to the ceilings.</p><p>    Harry bit the insides of his cheeks and nodded. Arys handed him a new note back.</p><p> </p><p>    <em>Thank you, Mr Malfoy. We will find some way to compensate you for your generosity. We will all proceed to THE ROOM now, as planned, HAROLD.</em></p><p>    ‘HAROLD?’ Malfoy mouthed, looking delightfully amused.</p><p>    Harry rolled his eyes as he shook his head. ‘Don’t even,’ he replied. Arys tacked her index finger on the spine of the play to attract the others’ attention. </p><p>    She pointed at Malfoy, put the same finger to her lips, and then drew its nail laterally across her neck. She slowly lifted her wand and lifted the spell on Malfoy. He immediately opened his mouth, and then shut it again in a second, thinking he was making an hysterical joke. Arys was unamused. Harry couldn’t help a small chuckle into his shirt.</p><p>    ‘Room. Now.’ He mouthed and nodded to them both. They nodded back. They got up, Arys had spelled everyone’s movements silent but Harry’s and he grabbed her by the crook of the elbow into the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>    After the Unbreakable was sworn -- during which Malfoy grumbled endlessly about necessary and uneceassary precautions and fools not being suffered gladly, and so on -- it was past dawn. All and all, things had only taken about three hours. Arys left from the Dark Room, Malfoy left from the Dark Room, complaining but immensely self-satisfied with the work he’d done, and Harry went back up to the attic to try and sleep some.</p><p> </p><p>    A few short minutes, hours, later Harry awoke to the familiar Veela’s call. Walburga was infamously absent. Harry frowned for a moment, and then recollected all of the events of the night/day preceeding. </p><p>    "Hark, who goes there?"</p><p>    “Tis I, the Frenchiest fry open the door."</p><p>    He opened the door.</p><p>    “You look absolutely Hellish.” Arys chimed pleasantly.</p><p>    “Your hair isn’t orange and your face is back on. Not an improvement. I preferred  the orange, myself.” Harry retorted.</p><p>    “I’ve informed Perfidy you won’t be “in Cupboard” today. Let us pray upon the Gorgons that Malker gets no word of all of this.”</p><p>    Harry laughed dryly. “If he hasn’t by lunch, I’ll wed Lucy.”</p><p>    “Don’t think bestiality is yet legal, sorry, fawn.”</p><p>    “No sign?”</p><p>    “None. They should be here soon, I’d presume. Let’s please get you dressed into something orderly.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter underwent <strong>zero</strong> edits! I mean <em>zilch</em>, I mean <em>nada</em>, I mean <em>bupkiss</em>, I mean <em>I stopped capitalizing Harry and Draco about 300 words in and it's still like that today!</em></p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
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  <span>day of inspection and questioning comes and goes</span>
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  <span>spell-masters investigate harry’s wards and ask him many questions, says he’ll take down the ward he created as he realises it was illegal and has clearly caused more harm than good. they insist he keep it up and want to do more tests on it. they like it. harry is disgruntled, spends rest of day fuming at arys, malfoy, anyone he comes into contact with about everything. bc of his stupid impuse spot-on-the-moment actions he has lost a number of his wards and safety and protection. plus there’s the murder investigation going on right outside his house it’s a very unpleasant place to be at the moment. but harry of course wants to watch but needs to make it obvious that he’s also not watching and uninterested, for the most part. other than polite decorum would allow. </span>
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  <span>memene arrives soon for even larger event. this event is the annual ministry beltane ball. harry ofc is invited w honours, etc. big ball, harry gets to dress-up this time tho, harry dresses as idk read more about beltane and french and what memene would choose/suggest and what harry would compromise. </span>
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  <span>“Malfoy, had a question about Jupiter. Is it true Slytherins go there to get more stupider?” Harry jibed.</span>
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  <span>“Ha, ha.”</span>
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  <span>“Or Uranus? Is it true it’s bigger if seen through a telescope?"</span>
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  <span>“A word, if you please, Potter.”</span>
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  <span>Malfoy clawed Harry’s upper arms and dragged him for minutes until they were finally alone in the etchings of the forest.</span>
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  <span>“So,” Malfoy cut in Harry’s diatribe on Uranus without preamble, “They’re studying the ward?”</span>
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  <span>“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Really? It’s gotten all the way to the Unspeakables?”</span>
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  <span>“The entire Ministry. It’s been nearly a week -- you should expect this. Anything concerning you spreads through that building faster than Spattergroit. It’s repulsive.”</span>
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  <span>“One thing we can agree upon.”</span>
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  <span>blah blah him and malfoy have convo in the woods about the wards and invasion of privacy and other stuff and the mystery of the murder </span>
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  <span>harry says how he feels like trelawney saying it but he’s almost certain this isn’t a random or isolated incident. it’ll happen again.</span>
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  <span>“You’re not as troubled as I’d expect.”</span>
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  <span>“A normal person would be tired of it all by now, is that what you mean?”</span>
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  <span>“You’re by nobody’s standards normal, Potter, I think the entire Wizarding World is with me on that. And it isn’t too late, you could still apply for the Auror Program.”</span>
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  <span>“Oh, Malfoy, even you can’t be so daft. The Ministry’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
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  <span> place I’d like to be working under. After everything that happened there... Sometimes, I just.. I miss... the seeking of it.”</span>
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  <span>“Of what?”</span>
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  <span>“I can’t properly-- I don’t know. It’s rubbish.”</span>
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  <span>“No, it isn’t. We just never sought for the same side, that’s all.” And with that, Malfoy turned heel and his cloak swished into the more brightly lit grounds. Harry watched his back, pondering.</span>
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  <span>come home</span>
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  <span>write malfoy a letter, </span>
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</span><span>“But we can now. apparition coordinates, time.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>they were going to meet 3 days later but another late-night murder happened -- this time outside arys’ -- so after dealing w her, harry turned up at malfoy’s to talk turkey. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy is also important on this case because he reveals he’s also doing work for the unspeakables on it??? or some branch of ministry??? maybe??? </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry Apparates to the London balcony under his Invisibility?.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>he watches malfoy for a moment, already on the balcony, seated criss-cross but poised as if doing yoga or waiting someone, something. he drags on his cigarette slowly. patiently. carefully.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry sits down next to him and whispers something.</span><span><br/>
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</span><span>malfoy drops the cigarette. “Merlin, HAZ ROLL, I might’ve killed you. May still.” </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Have you heard?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Just received Himmler’s Patronus. A witch this time?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Yeah.” Harry rakes his hand through his hair. “Inside, so I can take off this stifling thing?”</span><span><br/>
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</span><span>“After you, Chosen One.” Malfoy stands and opens the door, tossing away the cigarette and sliding through it leaving Harry a foot or so to squeeze through.</span><span><br/>
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</span><span>“Prat,” he mutters.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry tosses off the cloak. They stand in silence a bit, Harry settles himself on a bench, Malfoy perches on the edge of a counter in the kitchen. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“You know, Arys has taught me etiquette for every imaginable scenario. Even, best friend suffering Vampirism. But this? I ought to dock her pay. What is the etiquette in this sort of situation?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“A drink, I’ve found.”</span><span><br/>
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</span><span>“Ah, is that a Death Eater thing?” Harry snips his temper and the night and so little sleep blah excuses for bah behavior and regrets it even before its fully left his tongue.</span><span><br/>
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</span><span>Malfoy looks upset for a moment, but not with Harry. Well, a smidge with Harry. </span><span><br/>
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</span><span>“Well, often, yes. It was,” he grimaces. It’s as if it hurts every muscle in his face to do so. </span><span><br/>
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</span><span>“Malfoy, I’m sorry, I didn’t -- I shouldn’t’ve -- I didn’t mean -- that wasn’t on. I’m sorry.” Harry stutters as Malfoy pours them both a glass.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“I’ve made a peace with it. Or something. What is it the Mind Healers are calling it these days?” Malfoy deadpans, with mild venom.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry doesn’t know how to respond. He ahs that odd urge to laugh, he chuckles but brings his glass to his lips before it can release fully.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>They drink.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“So, you smoke? Filthy muggle habit, that.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Another peace-offering.” Malfoy swallows.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“How do you mean?” Genuinely curious, Harry asks.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Malfoy sighs, pained. He’s a part of this now. He knows it, he submits. “After I went mad,” he says degrading, “at Gondhaspur, I underwent many different kinds of therapy. The one I preferred was exposure therapy. blabhalha abhalh that so, after Goyle, obviously, fire was one of the most difficult things. I can’t even do a fucking Lumos anymore, did you know that? But I can smoke a cigarette. And that is how I get close to fire, and how I remember him, and how I become okay with myself for being afraid. How I try not to be afraid.” Malfoy reveals. He pours them more drinks.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Fuck Voldemort.” Harry </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Fuck my Father.” Malfoy</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Well, don’t suppose we should attempt either but, yes to the sentiment. If, er, that’s permitted.” </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“You’ve more right than most.” Malfoy admits.looking down at his glass.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry quotes something fitting from R + J. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>then more silence.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“What am I going to do?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“The greta harry potter asking me what he should do? oh haz roll, i could say so many things. I want to say so many things. But unfortunately few pertain to the actual matter at hand.” malfoy playfully laments.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“oh please stuff it, malfoy. and what’s Haz roll? really?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Ms. Wronsky calls you Harold. I merely felt fit to improve upon it.” Malfoy smirks.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Oh grand. If she didn’t just have someone murdered outside her house on my behalf, well, I’d, something.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Malfoy pats Harry’s hand. “I’m sure you would, dear Haz. Now, as to what’s to be done. We need someone in the Aurors. Would Weasley?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Of course. But to a degreee, I mean, I don’t want him to lose his job. And Kingsley doesn’t have as much authority as you’d think.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Yes, I work there, recall? I’m aware. Do you suppose he’d be any help?” Malfoy spins his glass.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Ah, I honestly don’t know. See, well, er,” Harry knots his fingers around his glass, sticking them in to stack ice cubes. “We haven’t been on the chummiest of terms ever since I turned down the aurors. And it’s similar with a lot of other former Order or DA members -- some -- I, er, ever since I.” He stops. Full breathes. “As I didn’t do anything more useful than become Harry Potter, Face of a Generation, or whoever the bloody shit I am in this week’s headline.” Harry spits out very fast. It tastes like too much salt on his tongue. “We’ve all lost, I don’t know what. Comraderie? Shared cause? So, yeah. Ron, Hermione, Arys, Memene, they’re pretty much it for me now.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Malfoy looks like he’s about to contradict harry, bites his glass and swallows.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Potter, Harold,” He mocks, “I’m not about to ‘no fawn you’, or pat your back and tell you to chin-up, you made the right decision, fuck the rest, or any of that rot.” He takes a breath. a beat. a sip. “But, for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone’s in a position to judge your behaviour after the war, or anyone else’s really. None of us know what any of the others of us experienced. It isn’t fair. Another Mind-Healing proverb for you, and the last for the night. You really should find one, by the way. Or else I may start charging.” Malfoy teases.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry splitters his firewhiskey, chuckling. “You sound like Phineas.” at malfoy’s puzzled stare  “No, that’s not a compliment.” still chuckling.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Malfoy walks away.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“Oy, Malfoy! I’m just joking! Phineas, he’s, a mate, really. A curmudgeony portrait who coulnd’t even take payment if i wante--”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“I don’t really care for the mechanics of portraistism or Phineas Nigellus Black and his relation to you.” Malfoy says into the hall, like he actually might care. “Anyhow, I just have to piss. So, one moment and think of all the things you </span><em><span>can </span></em><span>do, and the people you </span><em><span>can </span></em><span>use</span> <span>while I’m doing so.” He commands and slams the door.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>Harry laughs a bit. But is aware it’s an ugly situation. it calls for ugly measures. harry isn’t afraid of those, anymore. exposure therapy. he laughs in the empty kitchen. it echoes, hollow. ugly.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy returns, perches on a stool opposite harry. pours more alcohol. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“okay. go:”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“god this is grim.” harry shakes his head. “i’m sort-of grateful i’ve had arys around all these years to, er, i reckon, desensitize me? politicise me? maybe she’s my mind-healer. should I be </span><em><span>raising</span></em><span> her pay?” harry plays hockey with cubes with his hands. “either way, there aren’t many left i can trust. who’d also be of use. ron. aurors. hermione. connections, arys knows everyone, she invaluable. and wouldn’t be opposed to much, esp. after tonight.” harry coughs, angrily.  “luna -- but she’s abroad, not much use there. i could ask george at the shoppe for his records on harry potter-related merch and don’t even gibe me that look malfoy you asked and i’m answering --”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“no it’s smart. intelligent. a bit divey. unlike you. i’m impressed. carry on, please.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“wow, thanks, i’ll take it. right, who else, well, memene, my stylist, but she’s abroad too -- not much help. perfidy’s hopeless. but could be questioned. on the sly, if we did it right. we could always bribe skeeter, and you -- you’ve got the BoG. and the unspeakables. it’s not the worst list we’ve got?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“</span><em><span>we</span></em><span> ...” malfoy ponders the word in his cheeks. “i could contact a few people, if you like.” </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“like?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“it’s probably best you don’t know.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“take your word, then.” harry raises another glass.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“potter, </span><em><span>who</span></em><span> do you think the </span><em><span>we </span></em><span>is? in your cult? who would join such an abomination?” malfoy inquires, seriously, and then raises a hand at harry’s smudged face, “no offense meant, of course, but seriously potter, call it by name.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“it truly is, isn’t it? i thoguht it’d just, die off, you know? natural selection, or whatnot? but nope, they’ve evolved to murdering innocents.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“what’s their reasoning, then? if they’re trying to be you, you’re the best one to figure out their logic? are you not?” malfoy posits, swirling his glass again.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“er, malfoy, maybe you missed all the parts where i decry and --</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“yes yes, but still. the basic premise of the thing. the joining up. the cause. it has to be something ... ‘pottery’” he looks nauseated at the word.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“haha, well. it’s idiotic. i suppose you’d call that pottery.” harry jabs back.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“a bit, yes. you were always one for a cause.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“not one that invovled murder.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy struggles. “you know, i’d rather let’s just forget that bit for now. i can’t be trusted in my current state to say the safe thing.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“no, please, drakes, by all means, proceed. what’s unsafe thing that’s going to upset poor potty potter?” harry challanges. his glass shatters.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“easy, potter. that’s exactly what i mean.” malfoy repairs the glass. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“say it.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“you won’t like it, and i won’t like saying it.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“if you feel it’ll be useful?” harry sneers</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy sets his glass down, as if it’s the very planet itself. “the order wasn’t all peace and love and rainbows and pygmy puffs, either. i’m not saying they were anything close to the death eaters, but not everyone was as unwilling to get their hands bloody, potter. i was there, too. don’t forget.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“don’t you dare act like--,” harry snarled, “don’t you dare speak his name to me.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“who? dumbledore? moody? snape? fletcher, that skivi--”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“sirius!” harry erupts, and both glasses and the bottle shatters.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy flinches. harry seethes. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy places a delicate, cool finger on harry’s flaming wrist. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“i heard stories of him from aunt bella, and from my mother. he would never have. not like, </span><em><span>them.</span></em><span> well, maybe excepting bella, but who could blame him?” malfoy harshes, rearranges his features. “i’m going for a smoke.” and he gets up and leaves.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry introspection, thinks about it.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry is repairing the glasses when malfoy reenters, his eyes a bit red from a surprising sob.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“potter, i --” malfoy begins delicately</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“don’t.” </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“i’m --” like a birds wings brushing</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“don’t apologise. i thought it. </span><em><span>i </span></em><span>said it. i’m as bad as...” harry breaks off, and stifles another sob. he cuts himself accidentally (or on purpose a bit, ) on a shard.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“for you,” draco bends to help harry pick up the glass pieces. “maybe he would have. my mother... would’ve done the same. it isn’t a </span><em><span>wrong</span></em><span> thing. it may not be the</span><em><span> right</span></em><span> thing, but it might have been the </span><em><span>only</span></em><span> thing. it’s a cost of loving. they both, my mother and aunt bella,” he deflates when he speaks her name, “knew how much he loved.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“how much i could love.” harry says, cutting his finger again repairoing cglasses.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“murdering for love?” draco cottons on immediately. “plausible. but who is it they love?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“dumbledore essentially killed for me. others died for me. who do they dedicate themselves to? me. it’s me. they’re murdering </span><em><span>for </span></em><span>me. but why? and who? and how? and for what reasons?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“makes sense. are they sensible?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“yes, and no. i wouldn’t kill. but they aren’t me. they’re sirius.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“oh, potter, as clever as i’ve astoundingly found you to be as of late,” harry snickers and malfoy huffs and carries on, “you are rather near-sighted when its comes to yourself. literally. ha!” malfoy pauses to laugh and lift the bottle with the dirty fwhisky back. “they aren’t sirius. they’re nothing like.” malfoy states. he waits. harry breathes. “i believe it’s beyond time we consulted with hermione granger on this issue. do you agree?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“are you fucking?” harry is surprised out of his sulk.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“quite lonesome at the moment. are you proposing?”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“in your wildest dreams.” harry ruefully smiles.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“the heart wants what it wants.” malfoy dramatises. he pushes himself up and dusts himself off. “go home. contact granger. schedule a meeting.” he orders. “i’ll see you then. and do sleep, fawn, you looked awfully ghoulish in that page 6 last wednesday.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“don’t tell me what to do. stop stalking me in the papers.i hate you. see you then.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry pauses.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“thanks for the drinks, and the</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>stuff.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“eloquent as always. quote shakespeare next time. he’s much better at this mush.” draco closes his eyes and thins his lips. “goodnight, potter.” he leads him to the door with his arm, and harry, walks to and looks back after he quietly closes the glass with the invisibility on. he can see a triangle of malfoy’s visage, rubbing his eyes. if he’s not mistaken, there may be a bloody cut on his hand smothered in a few tears.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry draco hermione meet for lunch at harry’s in two days. </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry’s late, because he had to spend time with harpone sisters. hahahhahaha</span><span><br/>
</span><span>malfoy let himself in through the dark room, hermy let herself in through the wards, esp now they’re not as strong and also they know her.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“they’re the hypothetical dumbledores? i don’t know if you know all of what dumbledore did for harry, i suppose you don’t, and so they certainly woulnd’t,” harry stumble in on, “ but they’re certainly not attempting to be architects of his fate.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“that man?” draco gasps</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“well. it’s not my story to tell. you’ll have to speak with harry. but, if anyone, i -- harry!”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“late, potter. 10 points from gryffindor.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“thanks haz roll.” hermione intones.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry is very not amused by all the betrayal going on here.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“seriously hermione? seriously?” he grinds.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“it’s more clever than harold. and funnier. i rather enjoy it. have a seat, haz. we were just, obviously, discussing you.”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“what happened?” draco asks, a tad concerned.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“oh, fucking arys. i had to chaperone these, you know waht. it’s her fault. couldn’t take a bloody mary and i got stuck all day --” malfoy begins heaving with laughter</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“you bloody mary-ed her?! oh, salazar, i never thought, i’d see the day!” he laughs and laughs.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“it’s a good curse.” harry mumble and hermione just shakes her head.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“harry, i don’t really know if you’re such good influences on each other.” hermione muses.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“i know!” draco exchanges, enthusiatic. “she’s always hexing him in public! is that normal?!”</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“for arys? yeah, mate, yeah. i’m pretty sure it’s in the contract/” harry says.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“that’s why she isn’t allowed on thirsty thursdays anymore. well, that and she almost </span><em><span>somethingeddd</span></em><span> ronald.” </span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“ah, but it would have been such a laugh.” harry reminisces.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“i don’t think so. anyway, harry james, can we get to business. i’ve not got much longer.” hermione presses.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>draco watches exchange with amusement.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>harry sits.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span>“i’m pleased to see you’re working together. how can i assist?” hermione starts bang.</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span><span><br/>
</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's a wrap, folks! I'll end this four chapter and seven year old fic with notes I wrote in the original document like 2 years after I'd written anything new.</p><p>"IM CHANGING THE PLOT 2018<br/>OKAY SO IT STARTS OUT THE SAME WAY<br/>HARRY IS CELEB AND BLAH BLAH<br/>BUT LISTEN THERE’S NO POTTER DAY SAINTS (THIS FIC AIN’T THAT!)<br/>NO POTHEADS I EMAN I FORGOT I CHANGED IT OMG<br/>ANYWAY<br/>MORE AND MORE I THINK THIS FIC IS ABOUT HOW FAME SUCKS AND IS STUPID BUT ALSO A USEFUL TOOL AND ALSO HYPOCRITICAL<br/>!!!!!!!!!!<br/>IT'S ABOUT CHOOSING MINIMALISM DESPITE ACCESS TO EXCESS ETC AND HARRY FINALLY MAKES THAT CHOUES AND BECOMES HIMSELF ALSO ARYS IS RIDE OR DIE SO IS DRACO (EVENTUALLY!)"</p><p>In conclusion, who knows what this fic is about!</p><p>If you made it this far, thanks. I hope you got something out of it or will be taking something from it. Oh my goodness, it's hailing outside! See ya later!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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